On the Mend
by RavenclawGenius
Summary: Post 4x13. Helena returns to the Warehouse, and receives a welcome that she hadn't anticipated. Righting her wrongs might not be quite as simple as she'd hoped, when she'd watched Pete and Myka depart from Wisconsin.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note:_ This is my first post in the Warehouse 13-verse, so be gentle, and review, please!

* * *

Helena resisted the urge to walk in.

It had been a long time since she and Leena's old bed and breakfast had crossed paths; long enough, in fact, that she had to remind herself that Leena no longer played host to the quaint inn of Warehouse 13.

So instead of walking in, she stared at the door, and took a deep breath. She stood, with the vain hope of calming her trembling nerves and hands – at least long enough to form a fist and knock. Although she'd lived there once, she'd left it for what she'd imagined to be more normal things. Better things. But she'd been wrong, and wrong was something that Helena Wells hated to be.

_Another moment, then,_ Helena thought to herself, before shaking her head at her own cowardice. But even with that admission of weakness, Helena couldn't fight it, and she remained frozen just outside the door.

Until it opened, anyway.

"I still think the Mustang's the way to go," Steve argued, then stopped short at the door when he laid eyes on their guest.

Helena tried to smile.

"No way, dude! Artie's already put so much work into Scarlet, she could beat the Mustang by a freakin' mile!" Claudia argued, grabbing her coat and charging directly into Steve's back. "Ouch! What the hell, Jinksy?"

Then she peeked around him, and tried to conceal a grimace before she said, "Oh. 'Sup, HG."

"Hello, Claudia," Helena did smile this time. She'd always found the young redhead amusing, and she felt very affectionate toward her.

"So," Claudia cleared her throat and exchanged a look with Steve, before awkwardly continuing, "what brings you here? Death? Mayhem? Chaos? Unpleasant and destructive combination of the three?"

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort, this time" Helena replied, a short laugh touching the ends of her words. Although the British woman could never really be described as awkward, per se, it was clear that she was uncomfortable as well. "I just ah – fancied a visit."

"Right," Claudia said, pulling that unpleasant face that she'd tried to mask when she'd first appeared at the door. "Well, c'mon then, Warehouse is this a'way! You can ride with us!"

Helena detected her false enthusiasm and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She was getting the distinct impression that Claudia didn't want her here. Not that she could blame her, she supposed; she had left without much of a goodbye, and although she never understood, she knew that Claudia had, at times, admired her and her work.

"I thought I might step in for a moment. Maybe see if I can't find Pete and Myka," Helena said, making a move forward.

She briefly watched Claudia shake her head urgently at Steve, and while he threw a sort of _'Well, what am I supposed to do?' _look back at her, he stepped into Helena's path to block the doorway.

"Uh… Pete's at the Warehouse, and Myka just stepped into town. She's kinda grumpy," Steve said, but quickly changed subjects after a sharp elbow to the gut from Claudia. "Plus, Claude's got this new gazooka toy and she's been dying to show everyone, and she keeps telling me how much you'd love it, so…" He gestured with his hand in the direction of the car, while Claudia nodded with a large, fake grin.

Helena wasn't entirely sure of what was going on, but she was certain that if she asked, she'd be shut down immediately and quite possibly stolen away by The Regents. And she'd seen quite enough of them lately, thank you very much.

"Righty-ho," she replied, smiling. If they could plaster on a cheerful façade, she certainly wouldn't be outdone. "After you, then."

The short ride to the Warehouse was just shy of painful. Claudia and Steve kept the conversation moving, and Helena participated when it was clear that they were choosing to include her, but she still sensed that something was off and was very eager to remove herself from this damn silver automobile.

When they arrived, however, she couldn't help but to smile when she saw that, indeed, Myka's car was parked in front of the unassuming, wondrous structure. She didn't miss the almost panicked expression on Claudia's face when she laid eyes on it, clearly not expecting the vehicle to be there, but Helena chose to ignore it.

Myka was the one thing about this initial situation that she was looking forward to. After all that she'd done, she couldn't be surprised at Jinks and Claudia's discomfort, but she wouldn't let that or whatever they were hiding from her keep her from being thrilled to see her friend again, even if she had seen her just three days prior.

She followed behind the suddenly quiet agents as they opened the door and walked in.

"Artie!" Claudia called loudly.

"What?" The grouchy man snapped. "I'm right here, you little imp. Lower your voice, if you please." The sarcasm that coated his request was almost comforting to Helena.

"Look who we found," Steve said, shifting his body slightly to reveal HG.

Artie rolled around in his chair and immediately frowned. "Oh no."

Unable to help herself, Helena tossed her hands into the air and asked, "Why is it that no one seems at all pleased to see me?"

"I'm pleased to see you!" Claudia disputed, and hugged the woman in an overly friendly manner. "See? Pleased as punch! And all that…" Then she pulled away and shook her head at herself, frowning as she realized she'd overdone it.

"I see," Helena replied, squinting dubiously.

"We are," Artie said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile that was not forced, but Helena could see that it was reluctant. "Happy to see you, I mean. It's just that – no. Well – nevermind. What are you doing here?"

"I had imagined that The Regents would have at least spoken with _you_," Helena said disbelievingly.

"They did. They have. Yesterday. But I wasn't expecting you until next week," Artie informed.

"Regents?" Steve perked up. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Artie replied, frustrated.

"Regents," Claudia repeated, staring him down. "They never chip in when things are good, so what's the bad, Artie?"

"It isn't bad," Artie all but growled back, warning the diminutive redhead to quit badgering. "HG's just coming back to work with us, that's all."

"Uh oh," Steve said, covering his ears as he anticipated –

"You can't be freakin' serious!" Claudia burst. "I know we've all forgiven her for trying to destroy the world and all its inhabitants, and that's she's, y'know, brilliant and all, but have you _seen_ Myka lately, because she's – "

"Claude," Steve stepped in quietly and shook his head.

"Myka?" Helena asked softly, now urgently concerned as a horrible feeling descended upon her. "What's wrong with Myka? Is she alright?"

"No. You know what, no, she isn't," Claudia whirled on her and took a step forward.

"Claudia!" Steve and Artie shouted her name this time, all but demanding her to shut up.

The girl's mouth shut and she huffed angrily for a moment, before snatching her laptop off the desk and stomping down the steps.

"Artie, is Myka alright?" Helena asked again, this time moving forward to look over the Warehouse and see if she couldn't spot her dear friend through the window.

"Yes," Artie said. "She's fine."

"Well, not _fine_, exactly," Steve murmured.

Helena turned to face him, fully expecting an answer, but she didn't receive one.

"For God's sake," Helena hissed. "Just tell me where she is and I'll see that she's fine for myself."

But neither of the boys answered, so Helena urged her feet to move from their frozen state of terror and hurried down the steps into the Warehouse. She knew that Myka was here, but it would have been infinitely easier if they would have just spoken to her and told her where she could find Myka, because this place was, simply put, massive.

Helena tried to focus her senses, but she couldn't see anything that indicated Myka's presence, and all that she could hear was the quickening drum of her heart in her ears.

Then, through her fog, she heard the unmistakable and familiar sound of Claudia's fingers _tip-tapping_ on the keyboard. Helena could clearly observe that the girl was furious with her, and she was very curious as to why, but her curiosity and simultaneous reluctance to step into Claudia's path of rage were seconded only by her now overwhelming fear for Myka's safety.

So she followed the noise to find the Warehouse's future caretaker, and the feverish patter of her fingers.

"Claudia," she called quietly.

The redhead looked over her shoulder and rolled her eyes, before resuming whatever it was that she'd been doing before Helena's interruption.

"Listen, I see that you're upset with me – " Claudia scoffed, but Helena ignored her own irritation at the sound and continued as calmly as she could, "but I'm very worried about Myka at the moment, as no one will tell me what's wrong with her or where I can find her, so if you could… well, if you could help me with that, I'd be very grateful."

Claudia frowned and looked over her shoulder again. "Why is it that you're never worried about Myka when it matters?"

"Well, I'm worried about her now, alright?" Helena snapped.

"Whatever's wrong with Myka, it's your fault," Claudia replied angrily, standing to face the older woman with her hands on her hips.

"_My_ fault? But how?"

"Because you hurt her!" Claudia exploded.

Urgent footsteps descended upon them until Pete slid to a halt, gun drawn. "Claudia? What's wrong? I heard shouting," he demanded, looking around the corner. He slowly lowered his gun, however, when he set eyes on Helena.

"Oh. HG. What are you doing here?" He asked, looking to Claudia, who had reseated herself in front of her laptop and was smashing the keys with a new vengeance. "I thought you were staying in Wisconsin. With Nate."

Helena didn't miss the tinge of distaste as he uttered her former lover's name, but that was a conversation for later.

"I'm here to work. But everyone seems on edge and no one will tell me why, and all I've thus far gathered is that something's wrong with Myka, and I can't seem to find her," Helena rushed, her cheeks flushing with frustration and worry.

Pete sighed. "HG, Myka's fine. She's… you know, Myka. She's a little upset right now, but she isn't hurt."

"Yes she is," Claudia argued passionately. "She's hurt a lot."

"She's not hurt _like that_," Pete amended, glaring at Claudia. "She just needs some time, that's all. And she'll be fine."

"Pete," Helena's voice fell out on a broken, concerned whisper, and although 'please' never touched her lips, Pete could hear that she was, indeed, pleading with him.

But before Pete had decided whether to help Helena or not, Helena heard, with great relief, Myka's voice call out.

"Pete? Is everything okay? I heard shouting."

"Everything's fine, Mykes!" Pete called back. "It's just… Well, HG is here."

Myka rounded the corner as well, and Helena was so pleased to see her that she jolted forward and wrapped her in a hug.

"Myka!" Helena exclaimed, then whispered into the startled agent's ear as she pulled her tightly against her. "I thought something terrible had happened."

"Something terrible did happen," Claudia murmured not-so-quietly, refusing to face the pair.

Ignoring her, Helena continued, "Oh, I'm so glad you're alright."

"Of course I am," Myka said, loosely circling her arms around the slightly smaller woman. "Why wouldn't I be?"

As Helena's relief ebbed away, she could hear the scrape of Myka's voice. When she separated herself from the other Warehouse agent, just enough to touch her shoulders and get a decent look at her, she noticed Myka's flushed face and mussed hair. And, although she wasn't certain, she thought that the other woman's eyes were watered.

"No reason," Helena tried to smile softly, pulling her close again. "No reason at all."

"Claude, I think we should go check on Artie," Pete said, leaning down beside her and nudging her with his arm. "See if he needs some help," he urged more insistently, when Claudia ignored his suggestion.

"Really? Because I think we should stay here and make sure – "

"Claudia," Pete said quietly, "Myka needs this."

The redhead looked up at them unhappily, but eventually subsided and grabbed her laptop. They could hear, in the distance, the small girl grumbling about being forced to relocate herself all morning so that other people could take over her space and upset her friends.

"Helena?" Myka asked softly. "Not that I'm not happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"I've been reinstated," Helena said, pulling away again, but sliding her fingers down Myka's arm until she reached her hand. Then her fingers gripped those of her friend's and pulled her to sit beside her on the ground. "Or, re-reinstated, I suppose."

Myka frowned. Helena had seen a lot of those this morning, and she found she wasn't very fond of them. "Why?"

"Oh, you know," Helena shrugged carefully, "same song, different tune. The Warehouse is my home."

Myka was quiet for a moment, and Helena, although she didn't realize it, held her breath as Myka scrutinized her. "I thought your home was in Wisconsin, now. With Nate and Adelaide?"

Helena sighed. "Yes, well, as it turns out, Nate wasn't thrilled with finding out about who I am or what I did. And Adelaide… She's a lovely girl, but you were right. She wasn't – she isn't my Christina."

Myka's eyes turned sad. Or, sadder, Helena mentally amended. "No," Myka said, shaking her head. "I told you, I was wrong to have said that."

"I recall," Helena smiled gently, ducking her head to pull Myka's gaze to hers. "Something about losing a friend," she smiled again, but was confused as she watched Myka turn her face away. "But you were also right. I didn't intend it when I met them, but I had been searching for replacements for my family. And although I miss her very much," Helena sighed sadly, "Adelaide was not my family, nor was Nate. My family is here."

When Myka said nothing, still, and didn't shift her gaze again, Helena squeezed her fingers tightly.

"Myka," she whispered, "I thought – well, I'd hoped that you'd be happy to see me."

"I am," Myka looked up, finally, but her eyes were hazy and Helena could see that wherever her friend's mind was, it wasn't in a cheerful place. "I just – you were supposed to fight for him. I told you to fight for him."

"I wasn't going to fight for someone I didn't love," Helena replied softly, growing more baffled with each word that Myka spoke, and the tearing of her eyes didn't help matters.

Helena saw guilt then, before Myka nodded and stood up. The younger woman extended her hand to HG, and Helena accepted it with some hesitation. She wasn't done speaking with Myka yet, and she hoped that this wasn't the end of their reunion, but it was obvious that something was wrong with her friend, so she elected to follow her lead.

"So you're staying?" Myka asked, dusting herself off.

It wasn't until she looked up, though, that Helena noted the hope in her eyes and voice.

"Well, that's the plan, anyway," Helena shrugged. "Although, perhaps not, if I can't make things right with the others."

Guilt again. "We'll fix it," Myka said, wandering down another aisle. Helena found, then, that Myka had no destination for them.

"I'm not sure how," Helena laughed a bit. "I'm not even certain what I did."

Myka looked over at her again, but didn't say anything. They walked a bit further before the agent spoke again.

"I really am happy to see you, Helena."


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note:_ Myka's cancer won't be appearing in this story! I probably should have mentioned it before, but as it stands, what with HG's departure and reappearance in _Instinct_, the two of them have enough to deal with without Myka falling ill. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! I have six type up thus far, but I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow. Please review!

* * *

Three weeks had passed since Helena's reintegration to the Warehouse, and she hadn't quite found her footing. She'd been on several missions with Myka, but everyone else – while not outright saying so – refused to work with her, and for the life of her, she just couldn't figure out why.

She supposed it didn't matter. She was doing the work that she loved. And although Myka still seemed very off, she had accepted her presence back at the Warehouse, so Helena found that something to be very grateful for.

Pete, too, had sort of accepted her back into the folds. She wondered how he was so accepting, actually, as he'd only been on a couple of missions with Myka since Helena's return. Instead, he'd been taking turns partnering with Claudia and Steve. But he still joked with her, and smiled at her, which was much more than she could say for the others.

Claudia had taken to all but ignoring her, and while Steve included her in his conversations, he didn't say anything about Claudia's refusal to do so, and he was rarely alone with her. But Steve was hardly of consequence to her. Helena hadn't known him before. She could tell that it was not in his nature to be unkind, but Claudia's influence clearly had his kindness leveled out at polite. Artie was, comfortingly, the same as ever. Although his grief following Leena's death was obvious, his behavior toward her hadn't changed since his plea to The Regents.

But she was unsatisfied. Everyone had changed – understandably so – but it seemed that whatever affectionate feelings they'd had for her had changed with them.

Helena sighed as a knock at her door roused her from her thoughts about her co-workers. She tossed a shirt on, and moved to open it. She was surprised, when she opened the door, to find Claudia at the other side.

"So, here's the thing," Claudia began, shoving herself into the room and plopping down on Helena's bed before she'd even had the chance to greet the girl 'good morning.'

"I'm all ears," Helena raised a brow, gently shutting her bedroom door and leaning against it to face Claudia.

"I haven't been very… well, let's call it receptive. I haven't been very receptive of your reinstatement here."

"No, you haven't," Helena agreed, when Claudia looked up, clearly expecting a response.

"Right. So, we're going to talk about why."

"I'm listening," Helena replied, moving toward the armchair that faced the bed near the window.

"Listening! Okay! Let's start with that. You listen a lot. And you listen, like, really well. But you can't see for shit, Wells," Claudia informed.

Helena was more baffled than she'd been before.

Claudia sighed. "Dude, I'm not good at this. Pete and Jinks are all up in my business about me talking things over with you, and I suck at it, which is why I avoid it."

"Alright," Helena said slowly. "Well, maybe if you could start by clarifying, just a bit?"

Claudia sighed and threw herself back against the bed. Helena tried not to be amused, and tried harder not to be irritated, as she'd just made the bed, but she waited patiently for Claudia to continue.

"Okay, look. I don't like people upsetting my friends," Claudia said finally, staring at the ceiling. When Helena didn't reply, though, Claudia tilted her head to the side so that she could see the older woman, and then she sat up suddenly, and her 'calm' voice had faded. "So, you know, stop upsetting my friend!"

"Claudia, I don't – "

"Jesus Christ, Myka! Stop upsetting Myka!" Claudia's hands were in the air now, emphasizing a point that Helena just wasn't grasping.

"Myka?" Helena furrowed her brows. "Claudia, I'm very sorry, but I'm not following."

"You keep leaving," Claudia said quietly. "And Myka's a big girl – she can take it. But she trusted you, when no one else did. And she still trusted you, even after you betrayed her. Which you did in the _worst _way possible, by the way!" Claudia accused, pointing at her. "And she stood up for you. She's always standing up for you. She's your friend."

"Yes, she is," Helena agreed. "Myka is… well, she's certainly the closest friend I've ever had. And I'm grateful for her."

"Yeah. Yes, I know!" Claudia growled, frustrated. "But you don't see what you do to her!"

"What I do to her?"

"With all the flirting and the sharing and the complimenting and the touching," Claudia listed, her voice mocking Helena's actions. "And, dude, my best friend is gay, so I'm cool with the lady love or whatever, but just freakin' pay attention to her!"

"Claudia, all I _do_ is pay attention to her!" Helena defended sincerely. "She's my partner."

"You're being serious right now," Claudia said, and although Helena expected to hear accusation in the tone, all she could hear was disbelief, and a little bit of wonder.

"Of course I'm being serious," Helena frowned. "I've just said: Myka is my closest friend."

"Then you're clearly not paying attention to the right things, because, dude, she's so in love with you that it makes _my_ head spin."

Helena couldn't help it. She laughed. She'd tried to suss out Myka's feelings for ages, but even while Myka had responded in kind to her flirtations, she'd never initiated it, and she never tried to take it further. She'd determined that Myka was being friendly, and… well, Helena found her stunning, so a little thing like friendship wasn't going to keep her from flirting, especially when flirting with Myka Bering turned her insides so aflutter.

"This isn't funny!" Claudia shouted.

"Of course it is," Helena replied, still chuckling. "Myka's been the friendliest of you since I've come back, and she is my friend, but she's still only doing what's necessary in order for us to work together. She's distanced herself, and she's so very sad, and it plagues her every time she's near me. I can see it!"

"Um… Duh!" Claudia leaned forward swiftly, causing the bed to bounce beneath her. "She's sad and distant all the time, now. I just _told_ you. She trusts you, and you keep leaving her. To destroy the world and succumb to your madness, or get yourself locked up in a stupid little sphere, or to become a teacher as Emily freaking Lake. And this last time, you left her _by choice_, and found yourself a whole little family in Cheeseville, Wisconsin, and you didn't even contact her until you needed her to bag an artifact that you didn't even want to help her find once she got there. And when she did get there, all masked hurt and Myka-like, you basically said that you left because nothing that we did here was normal, and that was what you wanted."

Helena shook her head. "Claudia, I can see that you're trying to protect her, but what you're saying," Helena stood up and laughed incredulously again as she began to pace. "It just doesn't make sense. Myka's never indicated that she has feelings for me beyond the platonic. And before she and Pete left Wisconsin, she told me to fight for Nate. She told me to fight for him," Helena reiterated, ceasing her pacing and looking straight at redhead as she folded her arms across her chest. "People don't tell the one they love to go fight for someone else, Claudia."

Claudia looked back at her and said quietly, "You should know by now that Myka isn't 'people.' God, for HG Wells, you're really freakin' dense. Let's walk through this at grandma's speed, okay? You told Myka that you wanted normal, and that the Warehouse wasn't normal, right?"

Helena nodded. "Correct."

"And then you guys fought about that little girl and your kid, and you yelled at her, so she apologized, right?"

Helena nodded again. "Also correct."

"You know what Myka hates, more than anything in the world, HG?" Claudia didn't wait for a response. "Hurting _you_. Even as she talked you down from obliterating the world, she had faith in you, and the goodness in you," Claudia shivered overdramatically as she heard the load of mush that had just left her lips, but she continued anyway. "And when you were free to do whatever you wanted, largely thanks to Myka, you found a normal family, with a cute kid who she put herself in danger to save, because she felt so terribly about involving you and dragging the little girl that you love into danger, even though you were the one the call her. And she hates to hurt you, HG. She told you to fight for what you said you wanted, even when it hurt her, and even when she thought that it was wrong for you. Telling the one you love to fight for someone else may not be what 'people' do, but apparently it's what Myka does."

Helena began pacing again. She _had_ flirted with Myka. And, in the beginning, she'd been sure that there had been all sorts of sexual tension between them. But when nothing happened, she'd written it off. Of course she had feelings for Myka; she'd always been a bit bold with her language, even in the 1800s, but she'd never flirted with anyone as she did with Myka. But Helena never made a move, and Myka didn't either. Myka was her friend first, after all.

"HG?" Claudia called.

But had she really missed something that huge? Had she missed that Myka had fallen in love with her? Had there been an extra touch, or glimpse, or an action that she'd overlooked?

"HG?" Claudia called again, softer this time. She had been furious, but it was hard to stay angry with the woman when it was so clear that she'd had no idea about Myka's feelings. She still shouldn't have left like that – Myka was her friend, and deserved at least a goodbye, or a letter in the mail, or _something_, but HG obviously was stunned by what Claudia was revealing to her.

"Claudia, I – " Helena looked up with glassy eyes, and shifted one hand to cover her mouth. "God, I had no idea."

"Well then fix it," Claudia suggested blatantly.

Helena collapsed into the armchair again, curling into herself. "How could I possibly fix this?"

She had no idea. Myka's sadness… Had she truly caused that? Helena had thought that maybe Myka missed being partners with Pete, and that Leena was dead, and everything was changing and seemed so dark. But was she at fault for Myka's pain?

Then she remembered Myka's guilt. When she'd come back, Myka had looked guilty when she'd mentioned Nate, guiltier when she'd mentioned Adelaide. She'd felt guilty when Helena had told her she'd been right about finding a replacement family. And Myka had fought tears when she'd told Helena that she'd been worried about losing her friend in Wisconsin. She'd been hopeful that Helena was going to stay when she came back, and she'd been insistent upon how she'd explicitly instructed Helena to fight for the family she'd moved in with.

"HG!" Claudia yelled.

"What have I done?" Helena brokenly whispered, looking up at the smaller girl.

Claudia didn't say anything for a long time, and simply watched as Helena drifted in and out of her thoughts and memories. But after a while, she had to ask, "Do you love her?"

"Of course I love her. That's not the point, now, is it?" Helena snapped, standing again and scraping her hands through long, dark hair.

"Uh… It kind of is," Claudia stated bluntly.

"Claudia," Helena paused, shaking her head, "I really appreciate this. I do, so don't think that I'm not grateful. But whether or not I love her has nothing to do with how tremendously I've hurt her. Even as her friend, what I did – how I left… it was unforgiveable. And that she still…"

"Loves you," Claudia filled in.

"_Trusts_ me," Helena corrected adamantly. "That she still trusts me is a remarkable and true testament to how beautiful of a person Myka really is. Especially if she feels for me the way that you say she does."

"It's not me saying it," Claudia said quietly, looking down and picking at her nails guiltily. "Pete said it. Because Myka said it to him."

Helena looked up at her disbelievingly. "Myka said it?"

"Not that it matters," Claudia scoffed. "Anyone could see it. Before Wisconsin, I mean. She's gooey with you. And happy. Wisconsin just…"

"It ruined her," Helena closed her eyes and shook her head, fencing off her tears. "I've ruined her."

"Well, like I said: fix it."

"I wouldn't even know where to begin to fix this," the Brit said miserably.

"Well," Claudia grinned at her, for the first time since Helena had been back, and Helena found that she'd missed it, "luckily for you, my time-travelling companion, fixing things happens to be my specialty."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note:_ I've been asked to post another chapter before my vacation, although I have a nagging feeling that you'll be disappointed with how this chapter leaves off. Don't worry too much, though; I'll have my computer during my trip, and as I have several chapters typed already, I don't think posting should be a problem. Review, please!

* * *

"Myka?" Helena called, after knocking on the door and receiving no reply.

Their latest mission had been hell in the Arizonian desert. They'd been there for a week, and Helena had been under explicit, Claudia-instated instructions to let things lie, and try to act normal until they returned home. Claudia had said that it would distract her; stress her out, and make things worse. So Helena had followed the rules. But they were home now, and she'd spent a week alternating between the two agonies of knowing that she had caused that dreadful sadness in Myka's eyes, and the guilty one of admiring her in small clothing suited for the hot weather.

She needed to speak with her friend.

She tried calling for her again, but when Myka failed to respond a second time, Helena grew worried and cracked the door open to try for a third.

"Come in!" She heard a distant shout.

When she opened the door, though, Myka was nowhere to be found. Helena tried the bathroom, and all but swooned on her feet when she found Myka in the bathtub, buried beneath a mountain of bubbles. And although Helena could only see her face and the long, long legs that were propped against the opposite end of the tub, Myka floored her.

It took a moment for Helena's eyes to find Myka's face again, but when she did, she supposed that she had been lost for a moment too long, because she could read in her friend's gaze that she was concerned and expectant.

"Sorry, could you repeat that, darling?"

_Fool_, Helena berated herself. _Focus, Wells._

Myka's brows furrowed, but she said, "I asked if everything was alright."

This wasn't how she'd pictured it, but the manipulative part of her couldn't help but to think that this was probably best, as Myka was essentially trapped between her and the bathtub. She sat down on the toilet seat and shrugged a bit. "I guess that depends on what you'd call 'alright.'"

"Are you okay, Helena?" Myka asked, concern now overtaking most of her face, and Helena felt abruptly flattered.

"I – Well, it's come to my attention that the way I've treated you is," Helena paused, sure that she was wording this wrong, but shook her head and pushed onward, "well, it's ghastly, Myka."

Myka pulled her legs back into the tub and used them to push herself further upward, so that she could get a better look at the Victorian woman who had invaded her bathroom. "What do you mean? You've had my back and I've had yours; that's what partners do," the woman replied, offering a small smile despite her obvious confusion.

"In the field, I suppose you're correct," Helena nodded. "But that isn't exactly what I meant."

Myka raised a brow, but didn't ask. The question was implied.

The renowned author grappled in her mind for the words and sentences that she had put together over the past week, but now that she sat before Myka, they all seemed weak and insubstantial.

"Myka, I'm so sorry. For all that I've done, and how I've left you. I can't – "

"Helena," Myka interrupted, "it's water under the bridge. We've gotten past that, right?"

Helena was quite sure that she hadn't, and was even surer that Myka hadn't. "I wish that it were that simple," she said carefully. "But I've done awful things, Myka. And I'm not really sure what I've done them for. I had thought that my reasons were sound, when I acted upon them, but…"

Helena looked down, unable to face the woman who truly had been there for her worst moments, and defended her despite them. But she looked up when she heard the water shift, and stared, in clear astonishment, when Myka's hand emerged from beneath the bubbles to reach for hers.

"You don't need to apologize to me," Myka said gently, watching curiously as Helena clutched onto her hand for all that she was worth. "You're a good person, Helena. You want what every good person wants: happiness and the opportunity to set things right, to put them the way that they should be. It wasn't madness that drove your actions; it was good will, and a frustration for everyone else's inaction. You don't owe me or anyone else any apologies. I know that you've punished yourself for what's happened, but I never doubted your intentions, even when the worst of them were put in motion."

"Myka, _stop_," Helena insisted. "You truly are a wonderful, gifted, insightful woman, but you see in me what I fear isn't there. I do owe you an apology. In fact, I owe you several."

"I don't want them," Myka said, leaning her head against the edge of the tub and turning her face upward to face the ceiling. Helena found, however, with a great deal of hope and pleasure, that Myka's hand never left hers.

"Myka, listen to me," Helena persisted, looking down at their clasped hands and soothing her thumb over the curve of Myka's wrist. "You have been the kind of friend to me that I believed were only written about in stories. And if not an apology, then allow me to say this: I am grateful, and blessed, and flattered to have that sort of friendship. And I'm so very pleased that I get to have that with you."

Myka tilted her head and smiled up at her. Helena's insides warmed, but she had more to say. "And I haven't returned that kind of friendship to you as I should have."

The secret service agent rolled her eyes. "Helena, really, it's been an ungodly week. I feel dirty, and exhausted, and while you're being very sweet and apparently having all sorts of revelations, rehashing our history really isn't in the cards for my evening."

"Is that so?" Helena raised a brow, unable to help the flirty smile that curved at her lips. "Because this has been in my cards all week."

"What?" Myka chuckled. "Having a heartfelt chat while I'm in the tub?"

"Well, the heartfelt chat part, yes. The bit about you being in the tub – well, I just can't complain about that, can I?"

Myka's smile turned a bit wistful, and despite her incredulity on the subject, Helena couldn't help but to feel hopeful about what that little smile meant for them.

"Sweet talker," Myka murmured, allowing her eyes to drift shut.

"Myka," Helena said, waiting just long enough to watch those gorgeous hazel eyes open and hone in on her. "I'm not all talk, you know."

"Mm," Myka hummed, smiling as her eyes fell shut again. "That's what they all say."

"No, darling," Helena said quietly, with a little tremor that she hated herself for and yet couldn't keep from her voice, "I'm being quite honest with you."

Myka's eyes opened again to focus on her, and her face looked – well, Helena was just too damn nervous to read Myka Bering's face, but she was sure that she could hear her heart snap when Myka's hand fell away from hers. Helena looked down at her empty hands as Myka cleared her throat.

"I know that after all I've done, I haven't the right to say such things – "

"Helena – "

"But I am being honest with you, Myka," Helena spoke over her, determined to – if nothing else – make herself clear about what she felt for this woman. "I find you…" Helena laughed self-deprecatingly, but persevered, "I find you absolutely captivating. Honest, truly good-hearted, unendingly kind, and so bloody forgiving that I often feel I'm taking advantage."

"Helena – "

"And beautiful," Helena whispered, finally looking up from her trembling hands to face the cause of her anxiety. "Myka Bering, I'm over a hundred and forty years old, and can genuinely say that I have never set eyes on a woman as beautiful you. And you just… unequivocally stagger me."

Myka looked back at her, and her gaze never once tore away, but Helena still couldn't read what thoughts were travelling through that brilliant mind.

"Hand me that," Myka requested.

Helena was confused, until she noted that the hand that had pulled from hers was pointing at the towel rack behind her. Helena knew now why Myka had been trying to interrupt her, but whatever Myka's reasons for wanting the leave the tub, Helena couldn't get the towel for her.

"Helena," Myka said her name softly, and with such care, but the British woman's eyes were watering, and her legs were trembling, and her eyes didn't shift from Myka's. "Hand me that towel, please?"

Helena had been holding her breath, and when she released it, it came out nearly as a sob, and she felt absolutely pathetic as she answered, "I can't."

"Please?" Myka asked again, impossibly softer than the last.

Helena shook her head fervently, and her voice fell hard on a quake. "You misunderstand me, Myka. As humiliated as I feel right in this moment, and as desperately as I wish to remove myself from your quarters, it appears that I can't move."

Myka's pointed finger fell once more to Helena's lap, and as much as Helena enjoyed it, she simply couldn't tear her eyes from Myka's face.

"Helena," Myka whispered, focused equally as intently on her friend's face as she rubbed slow circles against the jeans that covered Helena's knee, "no matter which way you look at this, I'm at a disadvantage."

A jolt of Helena's reality crashed down on her and she laughed, though she still wasn't sure that it emerged as much more than a gasp. "_You're_ at a disadvantage? I'm baring my soul to a stunning, naked woman, and all she's doing is requesting that I bring her a towel!"

"I'm asking you for a towel," Myka replied quietly, her eyes dark and, Helena could suddenly see, frightened, "because I need to get out of this water. I'm pruning. And also because you being here, and saying all of those insanely complimentary things about me, leaves me wanting more than a conversation – and a conversation is what we need to have right now. So if you could just take a few deep breaths for me, and, when you're ready, grab me that towel, I'd be very grateful."

Her words had relieved Helena, just slightly, but she was still absurdly incapable of motion, so she nodded her head, and stared at Myka, and watched her chest rise and fall beneath the water until she could match her breaths accordingly.

"Alright," Helena said quietly, several moments later. "Alright." She twisted, and leaned upward, sure to never leave Myka's range of grasp, because until she absolutely couldn't have it any longer, she wanted to keep Myka's slim fingers covering her knee. She was pretty sure that her friend's touch was the only thing keeping her from madness.

"Thank you," Myka whispered, accepting the towel and holding it up in both arms to shield herself from Helena's view, as the British woman stood and mustered every mannered bone in her body to avert her gaze.

"Helena," she heard a moment later, closer behind her, and she turned to face her partner.

"I – ah," Helena broke off, certain that she'd been about to suggest something, but her nerves were severely damaged and Myka's hair was dripping and if she tried, she was sure that she could follow several drops of water through the valley between Myka's breasts.

Myka gingerly reached up to graze Helena's cheek with wet, gentle fingers, and she tried for a comforting smile, but Helena could see that she was nervous, too. Helena couldn't help but to lean into the woman's faint touch against her face.

Myka's chin shifted forward just over Helena's shoulder, indicating the bathroom door, and she said quietly, "We should sit."

"Right. Yes, of course," Helena shifted on shaky legs and turned toward the door, but when she reached the threshold, she tilted her head over her shoulder to be sure that her companion was just behind her.

Myka nodded, soothing her the smallest bit, and followed her into the bedroom, where she gestured toward the bed.


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note:_ My ego was very pleased with the reviews from last chapter. I hope this one doesn't disappoint you!

* * *

"Myka – "

"Don't," Myka said, as Helena took a seat at the edge of the bed.

"But, Myka, I truly – "

"You spoke already," Myka said softly. "And I waited as patiently as I could. So now I get a turn, right?"

Helena nodded unsteadily. "Sure. Alright. I suppose that's fair, yes?"

Myka, clad in only her newly obtained towel, knelt on the floor in front of Helena, and took her face between soft, damp hands. "I don't have a speech," she said, her voice shaking. "And despite my bookwormish tendencies, I'm not the wordsmith that you are."

Helena shook her head and parted her lips to speak, but a single, gentle finger covered her mouth, and Helena inhaled sharply, but nodded at Myka to continue.

"I don't blame you, Helena. For any of it," she said meaningfully, her eyes shifting all over Helena's face; her lips, her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, as though committing every inch of her to memory. "I don't blame you for trying to destroy the world – because we do live in such an _awful_ world. And I don't blame you for leaving. Or for wanting to be normal. Because with what we do, we see the worst of the world, every day. We see grief, and pain, and happiness that literally kills people. And I understand it. I do. When joy devolves into murder, or sadness devolves into despair – which seems like such an easy little hop – " Myka sighed and shook her head. "It just makes it hard; it makes it so hard to remember what we fight for. To remember that there is a balance, and that we help to keep it."

Myka looked at Helena's eyes now, as if looking for confirmation that she agreed. So Helena nodded, with glassy eyes, because Myka _understood_.

"But I remember all of that," Myka smiled hesitantly. "I remember it when I think of you, and I know that just sounds _so_ cheesy, but it's also true. Your actions, at times, have been extreme – but they've never been without care. They've never been without the love of humanity and all of the great things that we can accomplish. When I say that you owe me no apologies, Helena, I mean it. I know what you fight against every day. I fight with you. And I admire you, every day. Even when we're not together, I admire your courage and your strength and your convictions. I also love you, Helena. And that terrifies me."

Helena reached out to Myka's face now, as the other woman's hands fell against Helena's thighs and she ducked her head at the admission.

"Don't be afraid, darling," Helena pleaded, stroking her face with the gentlest touch of her fingers. "Oh, please."

Myka shook her head and looked up again, with tears coating her eyes. "I've never loved like this before, Helena. And although I don't blame you, every time you leave, I just – " Myka broke off and looked to the ceiling to stem the tears that begged for release, and to gather her thoughts. "My heart _breaks_, and I want so desperately to follow you. But I can't. Because you make it so impossible to find you, and when I do, it's like you wish I didn't."

"No, Myka," Helena tried to make her understand, her insides tearing as Myka's tears and anguish cultivated. And Helena knew that it was of her doing. "No. I just… It's only recently been made clear to me how you felt, and you've been such a lovely, lovely friend. I was terrified to ask for more. And to be around you – to taint you with all of the things that I've done… I bring only grief to your life."

"Idiot," Myka scowled, and Helena almost laughed at the juxtaposition of both Myka's tears and her irritation. "You only bring grief to my life when you leave it."

"I can see that now," Helena replied quietly. "But Myka, I never intended for you to suffer."

"I know," Myka replied softly, and though Helena wanted to believe that it was that simple, there was doubt in Myka's eyes.

"But you can't possibly," Helena argued carefully. "I'm a selfish creature by nature, it seems. It wasn't even until I faced the wrath of Claudia that I'd even considered the things that you must have thought."

"Claudia?"

Through her own watery eyes, Helena chuckled a bit, and nodded. "Small thing though she may be, she can be unpredictably frightening."

Myka smiled a bit, though she was clearly confused about why Claudia would have been so angry with Helena, and even further confused about what that had to do with the conversation that they were sharing.

Helena stood, uncertain of how to proceed without painting an even poorer picture of herself to the woman she was attempting to flatter. She walked toward the bathroom and, as she attempted to organize her thoughts, she spotted a red, silk robe, which she then carefully lifted and carried to her dear friend.

Myka hesitantly looked up at her, and despite herself and their situation, Helena couldn't help but laugh, just a bit, as Myka indicated with a bashful look that she would very much like for Helena to turn around as she changed into it.

Obeying the silent request, and grasping onto the opportunity of severed eye contact that had presented itself, Helena continued as best as she knew how. "I've left you during some of the most pivotal moments of our relationship, Myka. Although becoming a schoolteacher with half of my consciousness locked away for when I could make myself useful was never an anticipated part of my plans, I didn't think of you or your feelings when I went 'off the reservation,' I believe they say."

"I didn't expect you to," Myka inserted. Helena could still hear her rustling behind her, but she could all but picture the slight tilt of her head as she spoke it. "Helena, you were considering a much bigger picture, then."

"That doesn't make it right, love," Helena huffed, growing frustrated with herself for not iterating her thoughts coherently, despite that it was a talent that she quite prided herself on. She shifted to face her friend when she was satisfied that she'd given Myka more than enough time to situate herself. "You have been the most important person in my life since I awoke from the bronze. You have influenced me, and my life, in more ways than I could hope to account for. And I can insist that your friendship means the world to me until the world collapses upon itself, but I can't expect you to believe it when, at every given opportunity, I prove to you otherwise."

Myka laughed. Helena frowned, and waited for an explanation.

"Helena, you didn't prove otherwise."

"I betrayed your trust."

"Yes."

"And I tried to obliterate the world with a trident," Helena deadpanned.

"Yes," Myka agreed, standing to move toward her and hold her hands once more. Helena found that she very much liked it when Myka held her hands. "But you didn't."

"I would have," Helena insisted. "I would have, Myka, if it weren't for – "

"If it weren't for what?" Myka pushed gently, shifting her head to find Helena's emotional gaze and match it with her own.

"For you," Helena whispered brokenly.

"So, in all technicality, you _did_, in fact, give up the world for me."

"Myka, you know what I mean," Helena said, irritated that Myka seemed to be going out of her way to be obstinate.

"No, I don't," Myka shook her head softly, and Helena watched as her wet, dark curls fell over her shoulders with the motion. "Helena, I've had many confusing thoughts about you and me, and the relationship that we share. I've wondered at this irresistible connection that festers beneath the surface of every interaction that we've ever had, and I've had so many questions about what it means, or even if you've felt it at all."

"I feel it, Myka. And it confounds me. It's like nothing I've ever felt before."

Myka nodded, but didn't press that subject, and instead continued with her previous one. "But with everything that we've been through, I've never doubted that I was important to you. At least, not until – "

The agent shorted herself, and shook her head, but Helena was finally getting somewhere with this woman, and she couldn't let it go. She could see the hurt in Myka's eyes, and she hated that she'd put it there, but she couldn't begin to right the horrendous wrongs that she'd committed against her friend until she was clear on exactly how she'd made Myka feel.

"Until when, darling?" Helena requested gently, wrapping her fingers around Myka's wrists.

"It doesn't matter," the taller woman murmured, looking up to meet her chocolate-coated eyes again. "It doesn't matter," she repeated. "This, here – Helena, this is what matters."

"Until Wisconsin," Helena ignored her, and asserted what she was so sure to be true.

Myka said nothing, and turned to her side, removing her hands from Helena's reach and picking up the towel that she had tossed to the floor.

"I made you feel as though you were insignificant to me in Wisconsin," Helena realized fully, horrified.

Myka's voice was hardly a sigh that scraped from her throat. "I looked for you."

"What?" Helena's brow furrowed. She wasn't sure what Myka meant, but whatever she was attempting to say, it was clearly hurting her to say it. Helena needed for her to explain.

"After Sykes, and the bomb in the Warehouse. When you left. I looked for you," Myka elaborated, extending her arm and dropping the towel into the dirty clothes bin. But Helena suspected that she couldn't look at her just yet, so she busied herself with selecting a set of clothes from the chest of drawers near the bed.

"And I'd made myself untraceable," Helena finished for her.

Myka peeked over her shoulder and smiled sadly, before she offered a little shrug, and rested a pair of shorts and a camisole against the flat surface of the dresser.

"You searched for me," Helena whispered softly.

"Yes," Myka confirmed, pain evident in her voice. "I was worried for you. And, selfishly, I missed you."

"You aren't selfish in the least," Helena managed to choke.

"But I was," she saw the back of Myka's head shake in denial. "I was lonely, and frightened, and I missed my friend. Everything was suddenly so different, and you were gone."

"Again," Helena scoffed at herself.

"Again," Myka repeated sympathetically, hearing in Helena's voice the shame that she felt. "Only this time it was clear that you had left of your own volition. And I had a very hard time accepting that wherever you were, and whatever you were doing, you didn't want us to know about it. I took it personally, and I shouldn't have."

"Oh, Myka," Helena husked, swallowing tightly as the true concept of what Myka had perceived to be true washed over her.

"You wanted a fresh start," Myka tried to comfort her quietly, although it did not escape Helena's keen notice that the admirable woman she'd fallen in love with still could not face her.

"Yes, but – "

"I was selfish, Helena," Myka reiterated. "I wanted – " She stopped there to sigh, but then turned, finally, and rested her back against the dresser, defensively crossing her arms over her chest before she shrugged again. "I wanted you. I wanted to be _Bering and Wells_ again," she laughed self-deprecatingly as she looked down. "I wanted the woman I loved to be near me, even if I could never speak my feelings aloud. And when you called, I swear my heart nearly beat from my chest."

Helena was furious with the tears that seemed to endlessly cloud her vision. She had so deeply hurt this beautiful creature. She had no right to cry about it here, when Myka was being given her only true opportunity to express the ache that she'd felt.

"I was so excited to see you that I'd forgotten to be angry with you," Myka smiled softly at the memory. "Until I got there, anyway. Until I met Nate. And, as guilty as I felt for it, until I met Adelaide. I was so furious with you, Helena."

She remembered. It had seemed so out of character for Myka to poke her nose into Helena's personal life, and that she had dared to presume what was best for Helena had made her so unfalteringly mad.

"I picked a fight," Myka admitted shamefully. "I didn't want you there, in Wisconsin," Myka laughed at herself again, and at the idea of Helena finding happiness in _Wisconsin_, of all places. Not that it could possibly be any worse than South Dakota. "I wanted you here, with me. I'd realized that I was wrong before we parted ways again, but I couldn't steal back the harsh words that I'd spoken to you."

"I'd left you," Helena defended her. "I'd hurt you. Again. I'd begun a new life, and I'd left you behind without even a proper goodbye."

Myka looked to the ceiling, and Helena watched her bent knee tremor, and the heel of her foot tap against the ground as she fought against her powerful emotions.

"I'd betrayed your trust, yet again. And this time, your friendship, as well," Helena pushed, knowing that as much as she hated to do it, Myka needed this release. And then she pushed further. "I'd found a lover."

Helena's heart cracked as she watched the normally stoic Myka Bering fall apart before her.

"And that shattered what you then thought to be the delusions of our feelings for one another," Helena rasped, trying dreadfully not to cry with her friend, and swiping at her face as she realized that she'd failed.

"As I said," Myka's voice raked from her throat, tears streaking down her flawless cheeks, "I was being selfish."

Desperate to hold her, and somehow sensing that Myka needed it, too, Helena rushed forward and wrapped her arms around the slim woman. "Oh, my darling Myka," she whispered into soft, damp hair.

She had no words to follow her sentiment. She just gripped the woman in a tight hold, agonizing as Myka's ensuing sob swept over her cheek.

What had she done?


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note:_ If it makes you feel any better, the last chapter broke my heart a bit, too. Although, I suppose I have the advantage of knowing how it pans out. I hope you enjoy the new installment! Please review, as always.

* * *

It took some time before Helena could speak again, and by then, she had just barely managed to catch Myka as her knees collapsed beneath the heavy weight of her grief. She'd tried to move them to the bed, and scarcely managed to urge Myka underneath the blankets as she began to tremble ever harder.

"Myka Bering," Helena put as much strength in her words as she could muster under the circumstances, and gently pulled the woman's chin from her shoulder to frame it with her hands, "I've cared so deeply for you since the day that we met. I've been careless with you," she said, keeping a firm hold on Myka's cheeks when she tried to dodge her gaze. "I've been utterly and completely thoughtless. I've so blatantly neglected your feelings, in indulgence of my own fears; fears of the deterioration of the world, of losing your friendship, of never living what would be perceived as a 'normal' life…

"And for all that I've done in this life of mine, darling, I still can't begin to understand your loyalty to me, or the faith that you've always had in me. But if my life serves any purpose, right in this moment, it is to make you believe – to make you understand," Helena corrected herself, "that no matter how foolish I've been in regards to my feelings for you, you are the most important person in my world."

Myka jerked her face away from Helena's grasp, and though Helena understood her need not to be seen as any weaker than was required, and she knew that it was her own fault, she couldn't help the hurt that descended upon her chest.

"Myka," she pleaded, resting her hands in her lap and respecting Myka's space as best as she could. "Darling Myka, I do love you so. I can't begin to express how deeply sorry I am."

"I told you already," Myka's voice was weak as it fell from her barely parted lips, "you don't owe me any apologies."

Helena smiled sadly, and murmured, "I owe you so much more."

Myka looked up at her, then, and though Helena doubted her own eyes, she was sure that she saw hope, and confirmed it when, with great trepidation, Myka whispered, "You don't owe me love."

She was so vulnerable, then, and it shattered Helena. She couldn't help herself. She had no idea if it was the right thing to do – hell, she couldn't seem to get anything right, where this woman was concerned – but she tentatively reached up to brush her fingers against Myka's neck, and used the other to take hold of her head, her thumb soothing the smooth flesh just beneath Myka's ear, and she gazed as honestly as she knew how into Myka's bright green eyes as she confirmed, "No. And yet, I find myself unable to resist loving you, anyway."

Myka's eyes scoured her desperately, and as exposed as Helena felt by her scrutiny, she knew it was nothing compared to what Myka must have been feeling. So Helena remained silent. She steadily met Myka's furiously searching eyes, and fed her every emotion that she knew how to feel.

But she jolted backward when Myka's hands took hold of her shoulders, the secret service agent shifting so that Helena was pushed beneath her as she continued her assessment. Helena didn't hide her surprise, but she remained still, hands perched in their same positions against Myka's neck and face as her back pressed against the bed.

And then Myka's mouth covered hers – soft, but feverish and incontestably dominant. And despite her shock, Helena responded. With every ounce of willpower she possessed, she denied her desire to take over; to flip this wondrous woman over and ravish her with the need that she'd fought so desperately against. She allowed Myka to take from her everything that she had, bending beneath her and edging her fingers back to curl into Myka's hair.

And Myka gave back. Helena felt anger in the sting of her lip, as Myka's teeth nearly drew blood from her mouth. And when Myka's hands moved to her hips to fist into Helena's shirt, she felt Myka's fear, and it jilted her.

Then Myka drew away from the kiss as abruptly as she'd begun it, touching her nose to Helena's with a brief nuzzle, and an indecipherable sigh.

Helena was afraid to move. She wanted to hold Myka, and lather her with affection, but this moment was so tender and so fragile that Helena feared any move she made would cause it to end.

She wanted to give Myka what she needed; she just wasn't sure what that was.

Though she couldn't bring herself to move, the silence of that moment threatened to become something much deeper, and Helena was more than certain that neither of them was prepared for anything more intense. "Red becomes you," she murmured, her voice barely a breath that ghosted against Myka's mouth as she admired the way that the silk of her robe complimented her tanned flesh.

"Thank you," Myka replied, just as softly, and Helena could hear her gratitude for her subtle, but necessary interruption of the stillness that had taken them.

Myka's hands loosened seconds later, and Helena's eyes watched them as one moved to embrace her own fingers, and the other lifted above her head to hold Myka's slender frame above her.

"Myka – " Helena tried, unsure of the words that intended to follow, but Myka shook her head gently, and her eyes moved to hers with a pleading desperation.

"I'm so tired, Helena," she said, making no attempt to mask her utter fatigue.

Helena nodded carefully, and gently moved her fingers to comb through Myka's drying hair. "I understand," she soothed.

Myka's forehead tipped downward until it touched hers, and Helena held her breath as she felt Myka's fall against her.

"Don't leave again," Myka requested, anxiety and hesitation laced in her glance.

"My darling Myka," Helena began with a reassuring smile, "I have no intention of leaving the Warehouse."

But Myka shook her head and closed her eyes against tears that spoke of exhaustion and strong emotion. "No," she corrected. "I mean, don't leave me again."

"I couldn't if I wanted to, love," Helena informed, sensing Myka's growing distress, and desperate to calm it.

"Helena, I'm asking you to stay with me. Here. Tonight," Myka clarified, eyes still shut, clearly terrified of an unfavorable response.

Helena's hands continued to stroke through Myka's hair as she waited, but when Myka never opened her eyes, Helena requested softly, "Look at me, darling."

Myka's eyes peeked from beneath hooded lids, and Helena lifted her chin just slightly to close the small distance between their mouths to press a small, delicate kiss to Myka's lips. "I would like nothing more than to stay with you. Here. Tonight."

A slow, small smile touched Myka's lips, and Helena returned it, finally moving her hand from Myka's neck to her waist, and urging her downward.

Myka curled to the side and rested against Helena's arm with no resistance, and no energy left in her to fight it. Helena felt more than heard the sigh of warm breath against her shoulder. A moment later, however, she could all but hear the cogs begin to churn in Myka's mind, so she presented a distraction.

"I've broken nearly all of Claudia's rules tonight, you know," she said quietly, a smile in her voice as she spoke into Myka's hair.

"You had rules?" Myka asked softly.

"Mm," Helena hummed. "Quite a number of them, in fact. I imagine she'll be quite upset with me."

"Which did you break?" Myka's voice fell easier past her lips than before, and Helena was pleased. She knew Myka needed rest. She'd had a taxing week, physically, and an emotionally taxing evening. Helena knew she wouldn't rest if she didn't calm herself first.

"I was very specifically instructed not to make you cry," Helena admitted.

"Unavoidable, I think," Myka comforted. "I've been crying for weeks."

Helena resisted the urge to coo affectionate pet names at her, and instead offered, "It was also explicitly stated that I was not to kiss you before the time was right."

"Who said it wasn't?" Myka opened her eyes and smiled affectionately, though tiredly, then shut her eyes again and snuggled closer into Helena's side and Helena felt her heart warm. "Besides, I kissed you."

"That you did, darling," Helena chuckled, resuming the motion of sifting through Myka's hair; she hadn't realized she'd stopped until Myka released a small mewl of displeasure that fastened itself to Helena's core. Myka's light flirting wasn't lost on her, either. "Though I admit, I was surprised."

"You shouldn't have been."

"No?" Helena prodded curiously.

"Please," Myka uttered, and if her eyes had been opened, Helena was sure that she'd have rolled them. "You've been wooing me since you waltzed into my bathroom. I'd have been a fool not to be flattered."

"I wooed?" Helena asked, brow lifted in amusement.

"And flattered," Myka smiled.

"Darling woman, you flatter _me_," she said, shaking her head. "I trembled like a choirboy in that bathroom."

"It was cute," Myka soothed softly, her arm reaching around Helena's waist and tightening into a hug.

"I am not _cute_," Helena denied instantaneously.

Myka propped her chin up against Helena's chest, now nearly laying on her stomach, and Helena looked down to spot a caring smile. "Yes, you are."

"I am a woman of great sensuality, Myka," Helena defended her nature ferociously. "I have been described as erotic, and daringly provocative, but I am not_ cute_," she wrinkled her nose distastefully. "Cute is for puppies, and babies, and… _Pete_."

Myka laughed, and although she hadn't been trying for it, Helena reveled in the sound. Their entire night had been an emotional whirlwind, but she was more pleased than she could admit that she'd been able to, at the very least, lighten Myka's spirits before she wandered off to sleep.

"I wouldn't tell Pete that," Myka advised. "Unlike you, _he_ would take it as a compliment."

"It's mortifying!" Helena exclaimed.

"You were nervous," Myka smiled again.

"I don't get nervous," Helena denied abruptly.

"Then what would you call it?" Myka challenged.

"Distress," Helena determined firmly.

"I distress you?" Myka chuckled, clearly pleased by the idea.

"Dear Myka, everything about you distresses me," Helena relented, smiling down at her affectionately, and tucking a lost curl behind her ear tenderly.

"Why?" Myka asked softly, her lips still curved upward.

"You wreak havoc upon me, love," Helena sighed delicately. "I can't seem to gather my thoughts when I'm around you. It's infuriating."

"So I'm distressing _and_ infuriating?" Myka asked humorously, her hand reaching just beneath Helena's shirt almost subconsciously, and rubbing gentle patterns at her hip.

Helena swallowed tightly, trying her very hardest not to acknowledge the heat at her side. "Exactly my point, darling. Nothing comes out of my mouth as it's intended when I'm with you."

"Helena," Myka began caringly, "I'm surprised that anything comes out of my mouth at all when I'm with you. You do a very good job of flustering me."

"Is that so?" Helena grinned.

"You're very pleased with yourself for that, aren't you?" Myka laughed lightly.

"Very pleased, indeed, my love."

"But you also already knew it," Myka said knowingly.

"I admit, on occasion, I do enjoy riling you when the opportunity presents itself," Helena smiled charmingly. "Though, I was never certain if it was due to me, personally, or my sometimes rather crass flirtations."

"Nothing about you is crass," Myka said, raising her brow defiantly.

"You might be surprised, darling. My thoughts of you tend to stray toward the _very_ crass."

Helena couldn't help herself. Myka's hand at her hip was stirring up every emotion that she was attempting not to act upon, and though their interaction was no heavier than their usual, they'd never before admitted to each other their feelings. Now that they had, Helena was finding it increasingly difficult not to devour the woman. And, truly, her statement was general and not at all as bold as it could have been, because, indeed, her fantasies about Myka Bering made even Helena blush, at times.

But it wasn't Helena's face that reddened in that moment. Myka's cheeks flushed pink as she ducked her head against Helena's heart, and Helena couldn't help but to chuckle dotingly.

"You're doing it again," Myka mumbled, embarrassed.

"The wooing or the flattering?" Helena asked cheekily.

"The riling," Myka looked up to glare.

"The opportunity presented itself, darling," Helena grinned. "I'm certain I could do worse."

"Don't," Myka warned.

"As you insist," Helena replied softly, fondness overtaking her desire as she lifted Myka's chin, and pressed her lips once, then twice against her partner's.

Myka sighed against her mouth, and muttered, with closed eyes, "This is nice."

"This is heavenly," Helena replied earnestly.

Myka settled into her arm again, and her belayed exhaustion couldn't be terminated another time. Helena felt her breathing slow, but just before Myka drifted off to sleep, she heard that small voice beg again, "Don't go, okay?"

Helena exhaled, and vowed that if nothing else came of this newfound closeness between them, she would void Myka of her fears. "I wouldn't dream of leaving you, darling."

Never again.


	6. Chapter 6

Helena hadn't slept.

She and Myka hadn't actually settled in until very late, and though Myka had fallen to sleep very quickly, she hadn't fallen to a peaceful one. Helena had just begun to doze off when she'd heard the first of Myka's soft, pained whimpers.

She'd frowned, and contemplated waking her from what was clearly a very upsetting dream, but by the time she'd made the decision to rouse her, Myka had buried her face into Helena's neck, and the noises had stopped. Helena had thought – and hoped, desperately – that Myka's apparent nightmare had receded for the evening, but half an hour later, she felt Myka shuffling restlessly against her once more.

"Dear Myka," she murmured, stroking lovely dark curls once the dream had passed, "what plagues you so?"

Tenderly, she pressed a kiss upon Myka's head and tried to get comfortable without shifting her sleeping companion any more than was necessary. Helena found it a difficult task, though. Their impromptu sleeping arrangements had left Helena fully clothed in jeans and a buttoned up blouse. She was acclimated to sleeping in significantly less, or nothing at all.

She sighed when Myka began to rustle again, and with the newfound knowledge that it wouldn't last long, Helena wrapped her tightly in her arms and prayed for it to end. She loathed to think it, but she feared that the nightmares, in addition to the rest of Myka's recent sorrow, were of her own doing.

Helena lay still for most of the night, observing Myka as she slept, admiring her exceptional beauty, and, when it arose again, doing her best to comfort the sleeping agent. Admittedly, she'd battled against temptation as well, as red silk loosened around Myka's very fit form with each unsettled motion, but she'd managed to restrain her desire to take peeks where she oughtn't.

She frowned, though, when the sun began to rise. It couldn't have been past six, and over the weekend no less, when a soft knock tapped against Myka's door. Helena wasn't sure if she should answer the call; she couldn't be certain that Myka would be comfortable with any of her makeshift family knowing that she had been there. But when the knock persisted, and Myka failed to rise from her slumber, Helena determined that Myka needed the rest, and couldn't bear to have her wakened unless it was an emergency.

She carefully withdrew herself from Myka's entangled limbs, and stooped low to press a kiss against her forehead as she grumbled at the loss of contact. Helena was, quite simply, enchanted. She reached to brush an errant curl from Myka's face and gingerly touched her index finger down Myka's cheek in a caress that could be described as nothing but intimate. She couldn't be sure what sort of greeting she'd receive when Myka woke, and she wanted to remember Myka's peaceful, despite brief, sleeping countenance.

Helena moved slowly and silently to the door, and cringed internally when she found a glaring Claudia on the opposite end of the threshold. She quickly moved to the other side of it and closed the door quietly behind her, fully prepared for the verbal whipping she was about to receive.

"What the hell are you doing?" Claudia hissed, tossing angry hands inflexibly against her hips.

"Claudia – "

"What was rule number one?" Claudia ignored, and though Helena tried to edge in a reply, Claudia wouldn't allow it. "Absolutely _no_ having sex with Myka! That was the rule! The most important rule, HG!"

"I didn't – "

"I can't freakin' believe you!"

Helena quickly determined that Claudia was on a rampage, but her irritation and lack of sleep refused to tolerate the furious lecture that had begun.

"Listen to me, you foul, taxing urchin," she all but snarled, effectively silencing a momentarily stunned Claudia. "I did _not_ have sex with Myka last night. While I will admit to breaking a fair few of your intolerable rules – some of which, by the way, I did not break alone – that was one decree that I never intended to disturb. Alright?"

"Jeez, alright, so you didn't sleep with her," Claudia grumbled, hands thrown upward in resignation. Helena knew she wouldn't admit it aloud, particularly not to her, but she was confident that she saw Claudia express a brief flash of shame for her accusation.

Helena folded her arms across her chest, and raised a brow imperiously.

"You still broke rules," Claudia reminded defiantly, pointing at Helena's frame and jabbing the air defiantly.

Helena sighed, and reached two fingers up to rub exhaustedly against her forehead. "We had a very intimate conversation," she submitted, and when she saw Claudia's mouth open, she asserted, "a _private_ conversation, Claudia. Tears were shed, though I had sincerely hoped it wouldn't come to that."

"You weren't supposed to make her cry," Claudia frowned disappointedly.

"I'm well aware, thank you," Helena snapped. "It was a very long night, and Myka revealed more than I had anticipated. She was very upset."

"And?"

"And, what?" Helena snipped.

"And," Claudia said, indicating with a rolling motion of her hands that Helena should continue. When she didn't understand the gesture, Claudia rolled her eyes and elaborated, "How did it go?"

"I'm not sure yet," Helena admitted, defeated.

"What does that even mean?" Claudia demanded.

"I've just told you I don't know." Helena's frustration was getting the best of her, so she took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself.

"Well you stayed the night, right? So it couldn't have been _all_ tears and misery," Claudia determined, looking up at HG expectantly.

"No," Helena smiled briefly, acknowledging reluctantly that Claudia's question had soothed her more than her attempts to exercise her breathing.

"So what happened?" Claudia asked, her voice detectably softer after noting the gentler tones in HG's voice.

"She kissed me."

"Myka did what, now?" Claudia asked disbelievingly, physically shifting herself closer to Helena, as though she really hadn't heard her correctly.

"I believe you understood me perfectly, Claudia," Helena said, scowling again at the idea that Claudia found the notion of Myka kissing her to be so unheard of.

"Sorry," Claudia said, trying to relax, but putting her hands up beside her head in a _don't-shoot-I'm-unarmed_ sort of motion. "It's just that it seems so… not Myka."

"And why is that?" Helena asked, her voice low and dangerous.

She didn't miss the hint of fear in Claudia's eyes before she replied, "I dunno! It's just so… bold. Not that Myka can't be bold, but… you know, personally and junk, she usually isn't."

"Bold, indeed," Helena reflected on the passion behind Myka's kiss the night before. "Yes, I suppose that's a suitable word for Myka's somewhat uncharacteristic behavior," she grudgingly shared.

"Was it good?"

Helena glowered, but upon noting the sheepish look in Claudia's eyes, she decided that Claudia simply hadn't been able to help herself. Helena could relate.

"It was…" _Dangerously tempting_, Helena's mind filled in. Instead, she continued, "left unfinished."

"'Left unfinished?'" Claudia snickered. "Is that British for 'really fucking hot?'"

Though Helena could see that, once again, Claudia's mouth had spoken before her mind could moderate, she pinned her with a deadly glare, and she watched with satisfaction as Claudia shrank backward slightly.

"Any other broken rules I should know about?" Claudia switched subjects abruptly, clearly noting that the previous one was getting her into trouble.

Helena kept her mouth shut. She could have lied, but she was certain that, given her exhaustion, Claudia would have seen through her denial.

"HG?" Claudia narrowed her eyes threateningly.

"I might have mentioned Myka's visit to Wisconsin," Helena sighed.

"You _what_?" Claudia came as close to shouting as she could, without waking all of the inn's inhabitants.

"Myka touched upon the subject, but wouldn't delve further into it. I gave her a bit of a nudge," she said guiltily.

She could tell herself whatever she liked, but Claudia was the only one around them who had confirmed Helena's feelings for Myka, and she'd been feeling a bit shameful about how she'd pressured Myka into having that particular conversation – especially when Claudia had clearly iterated that if the topic of Wisconsin was to be discussed, it was to be at Myka's discretion. Irritating though the girl may be, she was Helena's confidante – at least where her relationship with Myka was currently concerned.

Claudia's lips parted to speak, but the cry that Helena heard next did not erupt from Claudia's mouth; the noise emitted from behind the door that led to Myka's room. A raking gasp of breath to her lungs later, and Helena charged into the room with Claudia following urgently behind her.

The sight of Myka huddled together in a swatch of red silk with her chest to her knees startled Helena into motion, Claudia stubbornly fixed to her side. She seated herself beside Myka and reached to rub her back, shushing her quietly, "Myka, darling, take a breath. Talk to me, love. Tell me what's wrong."

Myka stared up at her with glassy eyes that abruptly filled with fury as she grappled for the pillow behind her and, once it was secured, swung it promptly at Helena's head.

Alarmed, Helena attempted to seize the offending item from Myka's hands, but the distressed woman was having none of it.

"I – told – you – not – to – go," Myka sobbed, punctuating the end of each word with another solid whack to Helena's face.

Claudia stood at Myka's other side, eyes wide and clearly too shocked to even begin to understand what was happening.

Helena stilled immediately, realization dawning upon her as though a cold splash of water had assailed her face instead of a great ball of vicious white fluff.

"Myka!" She shouted over her friend's exclamations, pulling the woman into a tight grip against her chest. "Myka, darling, I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" She repeated herself, over and over again, speaking into Myka's hair. She continued to recite her apology until the pillow ceased its motions, and Myka simply clung to it, wrapping her arms around the white cushion before she weakly gave in to Helena's hold.

And, though Helena felt that only a moment had passed since Myka had calmed, she was sure that she'd been straining her fingers through Myka's hair for a solid sixty seconds, at least, before a dumbfounded Claudia finally asked, panicked, "What just happened?"

Myka was near catatonic, but her eyes moved to find Claudia's voice, though she didn't make to speak.

"Myka asked me to stay," Helena answered quietly, horrified with herself for reneging on her word, despite that it had been inadvertent. "She told me not to go, didn't you, darling?" She informed Claudia, bending her neck to rest her cheek against Myka's hair as her eyes watered, and her arms constricted tighter around Myka's quaking frame.

"Oh," Claudia said, still clearly baffled, but when she recognized that it had been Helena's lack of presence in her bed that had shot Myka into a frenzy, she instantly defended, "Oh, no, Myka, that was my fault! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! HG wasn't in her room, and I knew she was gonna talk to you last night, so I knocked, and we went out in the hallway so we didn't wake you up, but I'm sorry!"

"Darling, I'm here," Helena soothed quietly, shifting to hold Myka's face in the palms of her hands, trying desperately to bring her back from whatever terrible place she'd disappeared to. "I shouldn't have gone, but I'm here. I'm here now, alright?"

Myka nodded shakily, and Helena nodded in return, reaffirming her statement before she requested, without once breaking her gaze away from Myka's, "Claudia, be a dear and fetch a cup of tea, please?"

Eager to help fix what she'd broken, and more eager to help her friend, Claudia leaped out the door to perform her assigned task.

"Oh, Myka," she murmured gently, "I'm so terribly sorry to have caused you this pain again."

"Bad timing," Myka husked back, her voice breaking midway.

Helena lifted her hand to find Myka's hair again, as it was not lost upon her that the motion calmed the agent greatly. "What can I do, darling?" Helena pleaded.

A cynical, rasped chuckle emerged from Myka's throat before she instructed, "Don't go."

"No, my love. I won't go," Helena swore. "I won't go," she repeated as Myka's face fell against her shoulder.


	7. Chapter 7

"I got it! I got the tea!" Claudia exclaimed, rushing through the door more quickly than the cup of tea that she held could stand, even with the saucer that Claudia held beneath it. "Oh no!" She lamented as a few drops fell to the floor, but then she shook her head and resumed her determined path toward the bed. "Don't worry, I'll clean it up, Mykes, I swear! Here! I got it! I got the tea!"

Even with her insurmountable guilt, Helena couldn't help but to raise a brow at the overeager redhead. She was pleased, however, when she saw that Myka had calmed enough to smile at the girl affectionately, and reach for the tea that Claudia was so enthusiastic to present – and she was even more pleased when Myka didn't remove herself from the hold that Helena had around her waist in order to do it.

"Thank you, Claudia," she said sincerely, patting the space beside her on the bed until the small girl sat next to her. "I'm sorry I scared you."

"Oh, that?" Claudia brushed it off with a 'pfft' sound as she shrugged her shoulder, despite that her actions and words previous had endorsed her concern. "I was locked up in the Cuckoo's Nest, remember? That was nothing."

Myka smiled knowingly and reached out to grip Claudia's hand reassuringly with the hand that didn't hold her steaming cup. "Well thank you for handling it like such a pro, then."

"Yeah, sure. Anytime," Claudia grinned, knowing full well that she'd been caught in a panic and that both women were, unfortunately, very aware of it.

Helena couldn't help the soft snort that emerged afterward.

"How inelegant of you, Helena," Myka chastised, though her tone was light and teasing.

"My darling Myka, I can be quite elegant when the need arises, but even pretending that this pint-sized maniac wasn't running around like a headless chicken is plainly absurd," Helena determined firmly, subtly lulling a thumb over Myka's covered stomach.

"Hey!" Claudia objected.

"Be kind, Helena," Myka chided warmly. "She did do what you asked."

"Yeah! And I kept my cool!" Claudia winced a bit, and then reluctantly followed her statement with a small, "Kinda."

Helena bit her tongue against a torrent of responses that spoke of Claudia's ineffectuality in their previous circumstance, anticipating Myka's displeasure with said responses.

"You did great, Claude," Myka replied, leaning back as Helena shifted to sit behind her on the bed. Helena herself leaned against the headboard, reveling in the feel of Myka pressed against her in whatever way that she could take it.

Myka blew gently on the cup of tea before taking a sip, and as the heated liquid slid past her parted lips, Helena's insides churned at the soft hum that buzzed in Myka's throat.

"I know, right?" Claudia smirked, raising her eyebrows in one quick, confident gesture. "I make a bangin' cup of tea," she boasted. And then, "You doing okay over there, HG?"

Helena glowered at the redhead as she poked fun at her apparently obvious reaction to the sound that Myka had made.

Brows furrowed in concern, Myka lifted up just slightly to look over her shoulder and inspect Helena for herself. "Why wouldn't she be?" Myka frowned. "_Are_ you okay?" She asked, suddenly pushing herself further upward into a sitting position. "Am I hurting you?"

"No, darling," Helena smiled soothingly, tucking a special glare into her back pocket for Claudia, both for being irritating, and for causing Myka to pull away from her arms. "I'm fine."

"Hah!" Claudia laughed, throwing herself back onto the bed beside Myka and exaggeratingly kicking her feet with glee.

Baffled, Myka's frown persisted, but when neither Helena nor Claudia elaborated any further, she turned her head to the side just slightly and squinted her eyes skeptically.

"You're being weird," she decided finally, her gaze planted firmly on Helena.

"I fail to understand how I'm the one behaving strangely in this situation, when that little sprite is tossing her feet into the air like a child," Helena scoffed.

"Sprite," Claudia rolled the word around on her tongue, before announcing decisively, "I like it. It's very fitting of me, right, Mykes?"

Myka chuckled, and confirmed, "Very. Claudia's a child at heart, Helena. For her, that behavior is normal. You know that. Your behavior, however…" She trailed off, raising a brow.

To that, Helena replied haughtily, "The fact that I'm behaving myself at all is, in itself, more of a feat than you realize."

"If you say so," Myka quirked half of a charming smile at her before resuming her position against Helena's chest, much to Helena's pleasure, and taking a small sip of her tea, allowing it to relax her.

"Are you hungry?" Claudia asked, clearly still worried, despite all of her false bravado. "I should make you breakfast!"

"You don't have to do that, Claude," Myka smiled. "It's very sweet of you, but I'm actually not that hungry, anyway. Before my fit of clinginess," she flushed there, but pressed past it, wishing not to linger, "I don't think I slept very well. I'm feeling a little off."

"You had several nightmares last night, darling," Helena said softly against Myka's ear, her lips brushing against it inadvertently, but she would have sworn to have felt Myka tremble. "I thought to wake you, but they didn't last long. Their frequency was more concerning than the duration."

"What?" Claudia gasped, sitting up suddenly. "Why, HG, did you stay here last night?" She asked obnoxiously.

Myka's cheeks pinked, and Helena scowled. "Must you make everything into a scene, Claudia?"

The redhead shrugged, and grinned. "Myka's just so much fun to tease!" She defended. "Pretty sure I don't have to tell you that," she smirked.

"Claudia!" Myka protested.

"You'd best leave the teasing to those who can perform it properly, love," Helena advised. "The idea is to provoke her, not to stun her into silence. Where would be the fun in that?"

"Not being humiliated?" Myka offered, trying for a glare, but lacking success due to her clear embarrassment.

"Mm," Helena hummed thoughtfully, "perhaps, but that would imply that the provocation was for your benefit, when it is entirely for my own. I do so enjoy observing the effects of my flirtations."

"Helena," Myka cautioned, "you're toeing a line."

"When usually she sprints across it?" Claudia snorted.

"Both of you, stop," Myka halted a rather rude response that nearly tripped past Helena's lips.

"As you wish," Helena almost grumbled, her affection for Myka the only thing stopping her from spurring a comment back at Claudia, anyway.

"Yeah, sorry, Mykes," Claudia said earnestly, sensing that though she had only been teasing, Myka was, in all actuality, growing weary of she and Helena's banter.

Myka sighed and set her cup of tea against the nightstand. "The two of you are exhausting."

"You're the one who kept me up all night, darling," Helena smiled playfully, despite that Myka couldn't see it.

"So many dirty interpretations," Claudia bemoaned. "That one's just too easy."

"Claudia, _go._ Now," Myka said, rolling her eyes.

"Aw, c'mon, Mykes; I didn't mean it bad!"

"Claude, I love you. But I want to speak with Helena now, and that's a conversation that you don't need to be around for," Myka said meaningfully, reaching to embrace Claudia's hand again.

"Gotcha," Claudia nodded, leaning forward to wrap her arms around Myka in a surprisingly fierce hug. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Thanks," Myka smiled sincerely. "And thanks for sticking around to coddle me," she laughed lightly.

"Sure thing," Claudia nodded, and she watched as Myka shifted further back against Helena before she moved toward the door, shutting it carefully behind her with a small wave goodbye.

When she'd gone, Myka turned around, and moved herself to kneel between Helena's legs. "I'm sorry I freaked out a little," she said softly, and, after a moment of contemplation, frowning to herself. "That must leave a terrible impression of me."

Helena smiled comfortingly, and said back, "Myka, my impressions of you are anything but terrible. I do, however, hope that you know it was never my intention to leave you that way."

"I know," Myka replied. "I just – I thought you'd gone. I thought you'd – " she huffed at herself in frustration, but Helena waited patiently for her to put her thoughts in order, watching as Myka leaned back to rest against her heels and looked down to her hands. "I thought you'd decided that staying here last night was a mistake."

"Oh, darling," Helena shook her head, reaching to touch her fingers along Myka's cheek, "staying with you last night was the best decision I've made in quite some time."

Myka beamed as she glanced up at her, despite that Helena was sure she didn't intend to. "Yeah?"

"Oh yes," Helena replied, chuckling as her heart warmed. "And you shouldn't feel badly for what happened. Despite a brief moment of terror, I find myself egotistically pleased that you were disappointed with my absence."

"Did you really question that I would be?" Myka asked shyly, twisting her fingers together. "I thought I'd made myself clear about what I feel for you."

"I recall," Helena smiled. "However, it's a different thing entirely to witness said feelings at work, isn't it?"

Helena watched, with great curiosity, as Myka's eyes darkened several shades. "Helena," she husked, and Helena felt her insides coil as she recognized the sudden desire in Myka's tone as it rasped over her name, "my disappointment with your absence was a shadow of my fear. When my feelings for you are at their fullest, I promise you, terror is the last thing I've imagined you to feel."

"That's something you've imagined quite a bit, then?" Helena asked, desperately hoping to keep her tone light, in spite of the hormones that had begun to riot inside her.

"More than you'd think," Myka replied hoarsely.

"As have I," Helena admitted, her voice thicker than she'd wanted. "But I fear that discussing all the ways in which I've envisioned you will lead to something we're not yet prepared for."

A puff of air escaped Myka's lips, before a pout overtook them. "I've gone so long thinking I was the only one who'd imagined it," she confessed. "I guess I enjoy hearing you admit to inappropriate feelings, too."

"My feelings for you are anything but inappropriate, Myka," Helena argued. "My imagination, however, has produced more than a few scenarios in which I've acted upon my resilient emotions – and I feel those are what have proved to be unsuitable."

"Dirty?" Myka asked, flushing, clearly seeking an answer to a question that she immediately realized she shouldn't have asked.

"That's putting it kindly," Helena replied, longing evident in her declaration.

"Helena – " Myka breathed darkly.

"Myka, I strongly advise against pressing upon that line of thought any further. I've spent all night denying my impulses, and I must admit, I'm not certain that I can contain them much longer if you continue to look at me that way."

"I can't help it," Myka professed on a whisper. "You make me just… _want_ you."

Helena leaned forward and swiftly captured Myka's lips with her own, as though she'd been urgently possessed. She knew she shouldn't, but she had warned her companion, and hearing Myka confess that she not only loved Helena, but yearned for her, as well… Helena's body had flushed with overwhelming desire.

Myka moaned against her mouth, startled despite Helena's caveat. She, too, leaned forward, just enough to topple Helena backwards against the bed, but Helena had restrained herself from dominating Myka once before, and she could not do so again. She wrapped her legs around Myka's waist and, with a move that she couldn't have fought, even if she'd thought to, she turned the woman over.

She swallowed a gasp of surprise as it emerged from Myka's mouth, and recklessly slid her tongue inside as Myka's lips parted under hers. Helena fisted one hand into the bit of robe at Myka's stomach, and felt the fingers of her opposite hand skate against smooth silk as she grazed the length of Myka's side.

It was Helena who moaned, then, unable to squelch the sound as one of Myka's hands slid beneath the top that she wore, seeking out the flesh that covered Helena's spine with nimble, heated fingers. She felt Myka arch into her as she released the noise, and Helena couldn't stop her hips from bearing down against the woman's as she struggled to keep her still, because, God, if Myka kept moving that way, Helena was sure she'd take her.

When Myka's lips tore from hers, panting, Helena's mouth furiously shifted down her chin, and against her neck. The cry that spilt from Myka's lips spawned a hot jolt of need in Helena's stomach, and she grinded her hips against Myka's another time, desperate for deeper contact.

Myka scraped her nails roughly over Helena's back, and Helena returned the sting of pain with a sharp bite to Myka's shoulder. "You oughtn't tease me, darling," she breathed unforgivingly into Myka's neck, before she moved to lick the lobe of Myka's ear and whisper into it, "I'm having a difficult time resisting the urge to strip you, as it is."

A whimper, then, and Helena's fingers twitched.

"I can't help but to think, right at this moment, that I wish you would," Myka murmured defenselessly, sifting a hand through Helena's hair, and holding her loosely against her neck.

Helena sighed at the softer touch, and pressed a briefer kiss under Myka's ear that still was not without heat.

"Darling, I can't," Helena's voice grated from her throat reluctantly, as she took advantage of the short moment of tenderness in order to stifle the strongest edges of her desire.

"I know," Myka lamented.

Helena lifted herself above Myka's taut frame, and fought against yet another scorch of need as she looked down at her partner. Myka's cheeks were red, her eyes dark, and her robe had slipped (_or had been tugged_, Helena thought to herself proudly) to reveal more of her lovely skin to Helena's fiery eyes.

"You're breathtaking," she breathed against Myka's mouth.

Myka laughed huskily, and replied, "You're devastating."

"Curious choice of words," Helena whispered softly, and she was suddenly sure that her voice couldn't yet reach a higher decibel.

Myka shook her head, and allowed her eyes to drift to a close, before she sighed, "You're everything I've imagined, and then some. And I find it so devastatingly frustrating that I've finally gotten a taste, and still can't have all of you."

"Darling Myka, I'm more than certain that you will," Helena cooed. "But we have many things to sort out together, first."

"Helena," Myka murmured, stroking Helena's face with a touch so gentle that her eyes watered, "I love you. All that I need is to know that you'll stay."

But Helena shook her head. "Myka, darling, I haven't given you half of what you deserve from me. I'm doing my best to change that. I will stay," she assured. "But what I want from you, and from this, is to name you mine."

"Yours?" Myka swallowed tightly.

"Mm," Helena confirmed with a needy hum from the back of her throat, rubbing against Myka's nose with her own. "I wish to court you."

And then Myka laughed, though it was low and heady, and Helena noticed the cloud of lust that hovered beneath it. "You do know that's an outdated term now, right?"

Helena sighed. "It seems I still have a few things to adjust to in this time. What is the appropriate phrasing, then?"

"Date," Myka whispered.

Nodding decisively, Helena corrected, "Then I wish to date you. Exclusively, of course."

Myka breathed out her contentment. "I want that, too."

"Then, as would be considered proper, I would like to take you out before anything ah – untoward occurs," Helena voiced softly. "I believe that's suitable even outside of the 1800s?" She raised a brow in question.

"Then it should be soon," Myka huffed unexpectedly. "Because the untoward part of me wants you. A lot."

"What did I say about the teasing, love?" Helena asked, her voice agonizingly muted.

Myka frowned, before words erupted from her mouth, "You do know there are much more satisfying ways to claim me as yours, right?" Myka seemed unable fight the temptation that Helena presented.

"Myka, please," Helena begged, her eyes darkening to a color that approached black.

"I told you," Myka sighed touchily, gently raking her nails across Helena's back again, "I can't help it. I want you. And despite that it's been a while, I remember well enough how to tell that the sentiments are returned. That makes this very difficult for me."

"Do you think it isn't difficult for me, darling?"

"It would be more than unfair if it wasn't," Myka returned bluntly.

"Exhibiting restraint is not my strongest suit, Myka," Helena informed. "Sexually speaking, I'm not very practiced at denying my desires. But this," she said, holding Myka's cheek in her palm, "is too important to rush. I do want you, darling. My body aches for you – particularly now that I've stolen a glimpse of your passion. I just want to do this properly. I want to give you what you deserve, and a hasty coupling built on longing and impatience just won't do. When I make love to you, darling, I intend to do it well," she continued, eyes growing impossibly darker. "I intend to love every inch of you, Myka, and mercilessly demonstrate how powerless I am to your affections."

Helena studied her partner carefully when she made no immediate response, unsure if she had overstepped a boundary that had not yet been discussed.

"I… need a shower," Myka said breathlessly. "And you need to go."

"Myka – "

"I am trying very hard to respect your intentions, Helena," Myka warned. "But my want for you is pushing a limit that I don't think I've ever reached before. So if waiting is what you want – and I'm sure that it's what we need, even if I can't see it right now – then you need to leave before I do something stupid."


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note:_ Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews, guys. Keep 'em coming, please! I'm in the process of typing the next chapter now.

* * *

Helena groaned in frustration as she peeked over her shoulder to examine her bare back in the mirror. Myka had left angry red marks that stretched horizontally across her spine, and as Helena recalled their intimate position from half an hour previous, she found herself wondering how she'd possibly allowed that heated moment to escape.

Myka had been a puddle of submissive goo beneath her, and even the memory of her dangerous moans had Helena feeling warm in places she was trying very hard to ignore.

Sighing as she tossed the rest of her clothes into a pile on the bathroom floor, Helena stepped into the shower, and hissed as the hot water sprayed against her small wounds. The sting, Helena would admit, felt delicious in ways that she probably ought to disregard, but couldn't.

She'd always been very aggressive sexually, but, though she'd pictured it in her head more times than could be counted, she had been surprised when Myka had responded in kind. Oh, but it had been such a lovely surprise.

She had always known that Myka was an impassioned creature, and had hoped so dreadfully that it would manifest in her sensuality, but despite how frenzied their kiss had been, it had not lasted long. Helena had thought that it would take much more to coax out anything quite that daring.

But Myka had needed. God, she'd needed. Helena had felt, in every moment of their embrace, how intensely Myka desired her. She had done many challenging things in her lifetime, but resisting Myka Bering had to have been one of the most difficult.

Myka had not been wrong; if her intention was to take the agent out before they engaged in any further intimate activities, she had best do it soon. Helena's resolve was wearing thin, and Myka's was nearing nonexistent.

She stepped from the shower and wrapped herself in a towel, reflecting on her options. Myka was a rarity in this time, she knew. Very few women now enjoyed novels as wholly as Myka did, and fewer still appreciated the art of theater. She didn't imagine that many of Myka's previous suitors had treated her to a night that satisfied both, or even either of those elements. And despite her yearnings, she did hope to show Myka a charming evening.

But Helena considered that perhaps a night at the theater might be an expected route for her to take. Myka might enjoy a meal and a film, and maybe even a drink or two.

With a great deal of annoyance, Helena grudgingly admitted to herself that she might need Claudia's help with this. The thought itself disturbed her, and the brat would be positively _delighted_ with mocking Helena for requesting her assistance.

In spite of that, though, Helena would not chance ruining an evening out with Myka due solely to her own pride.

Helena resolved that she would, reluctantly, discuss the matter with Claudia.

She ruffled through her dresser, and changed into a fresh pair of jeans and a t-shirt before making her way to the redhead's decorative door. With a huff, she knocked a clenched fist against it.

When she opened the door, it was clear that Claudia was startled to see her.

Then she asked abruptly, "You still didn't sleep with her, right?"

Scowling, Helena slipped through the threshold as Claudia had done to her a week before. But instead of plopping against her bed like a Neanderthal, Helena seated herself in the armchair beside it.

"I was just asking," Claudia grumbled. Then, seriously, "Is she okay?"

Softening, knowing Claudia's concern, Helena nodded. "She is. She was clearly a bit shaken when she woke alone, but she was calm when I left her. Sort of."

"Sort of?" Claudia prodded.

"She was… flustered," Helena replied, unable to keep a hint of a smirk from touching her lips.

"Oh, jeez, so didn't need to know that!" Claudia threw her hands into the air exasperatedly.

"You did ask," Helena reminded serenely.

"Because you led me into it!" Claudia defended. "Whatever," she blustered. "If things went that well, then what are you doing here?"

Helena sighed, and tousled a hand through her hair. "I find myself in a bit of a pickle."

"I _love_ pickles," Claudia grinned, clapping exuberantly.

"Myka has agreed to allow me to take her on a date," Helena began.

"Duh," Claudia rolled her eyes and moved to the bed. "Though I'm a little surprised that you held out long enough to ask for one. Kudos," she smiled widely.

"Yes, well, that has proven to be a very trying task," Helena informed.

Claudia snorted. "I bet it has. Myka's all about the sexual tension whenever you're involved. And vice versa, by the way."

"You do make such a habit of pointing out the obvious," Helena frowned.

"Hey, with the two of you, I wasn't really given much of a choice. You, especially, seemed determined to ignore what was smack in front of that little British nose of yours," Claudia leaned forward and tapped her on the nose, and Helena smacked the hand away immediately with a lethal glower.

Claudia continued to grin, but allowed it to fall away as she watched Helena ponder over her situation with a solemn look to her face.

"Hey," the redhead called her attention softly, "listen, Myka loves you. She doesn't care about a stupid night on the town. But she knows it's important to you, so just… you know, take her somewhere nice where you can talk and have a good time, and maybe shelve the sexy bits for a little while. I know that's hard," she smiled again, though Helena noted with sincere affection that Claudia was not teasing her, and was instead offering an honest sympathy, "particularly with all of the foreplay the two of you have had building up to this, but you guys just need to remember the part where you're friends, too. That'll probably make it a little easier not to jump her bones from across the dinner table."

With a great deal of emotional turmoil, Helena confessed on a sigh, "I fear that I won't live up to Myka's expectations of me."

"Myka doesn't have expectations, HG," Claudia replied. "All she's ever wanted from this is to be with you. So just _be_ with her. Don't make it more complicated than that. You two have it kinda easy, if you think about it. You don't have to play the get-to-know-you game. You already know her. And you already know she's crazy about you. Just let her have you," Claudia advised, then scrunched her nose. "I so did not mean that the way it sounded, I swear."

Helena smiled, and, in a rare moment of tenderness for the girl, she hugged her.

"Oh! Okay," Claudia said awkwardly, patting a hand against Helena's shoulder clumsily, well aware that though they did share a relationship that was deeper than either of them liked to admit, touching was an oddity for them, and it spoke volumes of Helena's appreciation.

"Thank you, Claudia," she said gently, and pressed a kiss against the girl's cheek. "You've been very helpful. And I value, more than I can say, that you resisted the urge to poke fun at me."

Claudia shrugged. "You asked for help. If I poked fun, you wouldn't do it anymore, and it makes me feel all special and mushy inside," she grinned.

"So sweet you can be, when you're not grating against my every nerve," Helena said playfully.

"I was being serious, though," Claudia informed. "Myka's been, like, stupid tense lately. Just let her relax with you for a while."

"Despite our objectives, I find that Myka and I have been doing very little relaxing in each other's presence as of late," Helena voiced, clearly dissatisfied with her current state of sexual frustration.

"Hey, woah," Claudia puffed. "Dude, I'm totally for helping out and playing Cupid, but I don't need to know _all_ the sexy chunks. That's in Pete's wheelhouse."

Helena groaned. "Pete," she murmured, as though suddenly remembering a forgotten something that would come back to bite her in the ass.

Claudia laughed uproariously. "Pete doesn't know about any of this, does he?"

"I'm afraid I was a bit preoccupied with other things. It's not as though it's been going on for all that long, I'll remind you."

"Oh, man, you're gonna get some special kinda third degree," Claudia grinned.

Helena raised a brow.

"Aw, c'mon," Claudia said exasperatedly. "If anyone knows how depressed Myka was after Wisconsin, it's Pete. He can be crazy protective when he needs to be. He likes you, though, so that helps – and he's got all that vibeage going on with you two – but he's still gonna grill you."

"I suppose that's a conversation I ought to get out of the way before this evening, then?" Helena asked, raising a brow.

"You're taking her out _tonight_?" Claudia asked, straightening. "Do I needa get, like, earplugs or something?"

"I hope to take her out this evening, yes. I'm not sure that either of us could stand for a longer wait. And I suppose if it makes you more comfortable, you could invest in a pair of earplugs," Helena shrugged easily. "I have found, thus far, that Myka can be quite… expressive. And I very infrequently exercise modesty in that particular field."

"So that's a _yes_ to the earplugs, then," Claudia glared, but couldn't help a bit of a smirk when Helena's eyes grew momentarily hazy. She shook her head. "Man, Myka has no idea what she's getting herself into."

* * *

Helena found Pete in the kitchen, not surprisingly, after bidding Claudia a good day and thanking her a second time.

"HG!" He exclaimed through a mouthful of a scone, after spotting her in the doorway. "Fanna muffin?" He pulled one from a bag that had clearly come from the bakery. "Boobewwy!" He said, swallowing, then he grinned, "It's your favorite!"

He wafted the muffin in front of Helena's face, and she accepted it kindly. "Good morning, Pete," she greeted, understanding very little of what he'd just said.

"It _is _a good morning!" He said. "Except for that I don't think Myka got much sleep. I heard something going on in her room earlier, so I bought her…" he inserted a drumroll with a rolling motion of his tongue, "a breakfast sandwich! And I got her that cinnamon coffee she likes, too! She's gonna love me."

"She didn't sleep well," Helena disclosed, then took a soft breath. "She and I had a rather lengthy discussion last night."

Pete squinted his eyes, and said, with a clear voice of wonder, "You're sharing."

"I'm testing the waters," Helena corrected.

"Stranger and stranger this conversation grows, young Jedi," Pete launched himself up onto the counter and swung his feet like a young boy, the heels of his shoes tapping against the cupboards beneath.

"Pardon?"

"Star Wars, HG!" He bellowed out. "It's, like, an international pastime and it's only the most awesome series ever created!"

Helena simply raised a brow at him.

"Seriously?" Pete spluttered, and then, following a continued blank stare from the British woman, he rolled his eyes. "We really have to up our game on the 21st century educational front. I'll show you sometime. Anyway, you were saying about a talk you had with Myka?"

"Yes," Helena agreed slowly. "We were discussing your visit to Wisconsin."

"Oh," Pete said softly, looking down, before he nodded. "I guess you guys had that one coming."

"We did," Helena granted.

"Did you – you know…? I mean, did she tell you?" Pete blundered.

"If you mean to ask if she told me about her feelings for me, then yes, she did," Helena replied.

"You didn't do anything stupid, did you?" Pete asked. "Because she's been upset enough lately, and she doesn't need anything else to worry about right now."

"I told Myka that I returned her sentiments," Helena said quietly, feeling guilty all over again for the hurt that she had brought upon her friend.

"Oh," Pete said. "Well, good! Then why so glum, author friend?"

Helena sighed. "I'm more than pleased with the way that things between Myka and I have been progressing," she said, "but I regret that Myka has had to suffer for it."

Pete frowned. "Look, sentimental isn't really my thing, but I know Myka, and she'd rather have you even if it did mean that she had to go through some crappy stuff to get there. That doesn't mean that you don't have some serious making up to do," he added swiftly, "but you shouldn't let that get in the way of letting both of you have what you want."

"I'm not certain that what I've done can be 'made up,'" Helena replied softly.

"Then don't make it up to her," Pete shrugged. "Just change it so it doesn't hurt her anymore. She's had enough of that."

"I know," Helena murmured shamefully. Shaking it off, she said, "I suppose I hoped that taking the proper precautions would relieve Myka of the stress of having to explain our present situation."

Pete chuckled. "You and Mykes have always had a thing for each other," he said. "Everyone knows that. I think – what with your constant disappearances and all – that everyone just wants to be sure that this is solid."

Helena did not miss Pete's unspoken question, and although sharing wasn't generally an activity that she often engaged in, obviously to Myka's exclusion, she recognized the importance of having Pete's support in their romantic endeavor. So she replied, with utter honesty, "Myka's afraid that I will abandon her, as I have in the past. That skepticism is well deserved," she sighed, "but I intend to dissuade her of it, with time."

"So you're gonna stay? No taking off into the night or whatever?" Pete pressed.

"Pete," Helena said quietly, "I've made many mistakes where Myka is concerned, and I'm mindful of how terribly I've damaged her – but I never left with the intention of doing so, and I certainly never anticipated how deeply she would grieve my absence. I couldn't have left if I'd known that. And I won't do so again."

Pete grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Good. Great! So how can I help?"

"Help?" Helena asked, bewildered.

"You know," Pete said, dragging out the 'w' as though waiting for Helena to fill in the blanks. When Helena so obviously failed to grasp his meaning, he elaborated, "I'm great at making dinner reservations. And I have a gooey spot for Mykes, so I could probably man up enough to get some rose petals or something."

"Oh, Christ," Helena scoffed. "Myka doesn't even _like_ roses."

"Yes she does!" Pete argued, and then mumbled, embarrassed, "She just doesn't like red ones."

"She doesn't," Helena insisted. "She finds red roses to be trite, yes, but she believes that roses as whole are well overrated, and I happen to agree."

"Well I don't!" Pete defended. "I think they're nice. And, you know, romantic and stuff."

"That's lovely, Pete, except that we aren't discussing your preferences at the moment," Helena reminded.

"Fine. Fine!" Pete said, then pointed at her, "But you better come up with something nice for her, because if she's disappointed, you're gonna be in big trouble."

"I'm very well aware of the pressure to impress, thank you," Helena replied snappishly.

"Wow," Pete murmured, hopping down from the counter. Then, louder, "Wow! You're really nervous!"

"I don't get nervous," Helena recited automatically, then ran a hand through her hair with impatience. "I'm merely worried that, given our history, whatever I come up with will draw short of what Myka deserves."

"HG," Pete said, smiling and reaching out to hold her shoulders, "Myka's in love with you. Like, cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs in love. You don't need to _dazzle _her, or anything. Just treat her nice. C'mon," he said, wrapping his arm around her and guiding her to the front door. "Let's take a walk. You can throw some ideas my way, and I can trash 'em if they suck or something."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Helena tried.

"I wasn't really asking – it just sounded like I was because I was being so nice," Pete declared, making a sort of _sorry-I-wasn't-clear _face, and following it up with a grin.

Helena succumbed, after a sharp reminder to herself that she was doing this for Myka, and that made it worth the humiliation. She did, however, quickly shirk Pete's arm from her shoulders before she proceeded reluctantly, "I had thought that perhaps Myka would enjoy the theater."

"She would _love_ that!" Pete exclaimed excitedly. "Plus, you'd actually know what was going on, and be able to understand her when she reviews it later, 'cause I'm pretty sure that they don't even speak English in those plays, so Myka says I'm useless."

"Yes, but that leaves very little room for any private discussion," Helena admitted. "And I'm not sure that it would be very original."

"Please," Pete rolled his eyes. "You don't get more original than that. No one wants to see plays anymore, and Myka would be ecstatic. But you're right about the talking part, so maybe you should save that for a second date. Hit me with some more."

"A film leaves the same problem," Helena said. "However, it is being strongly conveyed to me that Myka needs to relax, so I do wish to take her to dinner, and arrange for a nice bottle of wine."

"Good, good," Pete agreed, nodding. "What else?"

"There, I find myself flummoxed," she confessed. "I do hope to be creative, but I'm afraid I'm not sure how to proceed."

"Well, you're an inventor, right?" Peter said thoughtfully. "So creative is, like, your specialty! If you can't think of anything to impress her with that's already here, then make something else."

"That doesn't exactly leave me with much time," Helena returned doubtfully.

"Then what are you talking to me for?" Pete said, clapping his hands urgently. "Chop, chop, HG!"


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note:_ Not as many reviews on my last chapter as I would have liked, though the ones received were very sweet. : ) Hope you enjoy the new installment.

* * *

_Chop, chop,_ Pete had said, and Helena scoffed at his absurdity. Inventions couldn't be _chopped_. They began with an idea, and developed from there – only, it had taken Helena over an hour to generate an idea that she believed would captivate Myka's interests, and that left only so many hours for her to complete it.

And she hadn't even spoken with Myka to confirm that she would be available, and willing, to go out this evening.

With a deep sigh as she folded up some very preliminary sketches, she decided that, before she rushed into this creation, she ought to speak with her partner. Finding her, however, was more difficult than Helena had anticipated. She'd searched Myka's room, the B&B, and the Warehouse with no success, and for reasons she couldn't fathom – because Myka had never left _her_ before – it made Helena nervous.

On her return home, however, she spotted Myka making what seemed to be a lap around the Warehouse property.

"Myka?" She called out, quickening her pace a bit to catch up.

Myka turned her head over her shoulder, and, upon identifying Helena, she slowed significantly. Helena fleetingly noted that Myka had gone for a run, but focused more keenly on the agent's appearance rather than her activity.

Myka's ensemble consisted of a pair of small, black jogging shorts, and a damp green tank top that did wonders for her bright eyes. That spoke nothing of the color in her cheeks or the tousle of her tied up hair. Moreover, her neck was exposed, and Helena could see beads of perspiration gleaming against it.

Despite that Helena was sure she'd sought Myka out to discuss something relatively important, she found that no words could form.

"Hey," Myka smiled.

"Hi," she replied, blinking several times in an attempt to startle herself from her trance. "Hello," she greeted again, laughing lowly.

"What's up?" Myka asked, lifting her leg to stretch her quads.

"Ah – I honestly can't seem to recall," Helena disclosed, eyes catching at the dip in Myka's shirt.

Myka's brows furrowed. "Everything's okay, though, right?"

"Everything is more than well," Helena nodded, and then shook her head – the contradiction of her actions not lost upon her. "I'm having a difficult time focusing my attentions, it seems," she admitted.

"Oh?" Myka inquired, taking a step forward and placing her hands at Helena's hips, dropping a thumb beneath Helena's t-shirt and soothing it against the skin beneath. "I keep having that problem, too."

"So you took to exercise?" Helena asked, brow lifted as she struggled not to reach out to Myka in return. She was sure that would be unwise, but Myka's touch, though small, turned Helena's stomach around.

"It appears that way," Myka smiled softly.

"Your cardiovascular training is doing nothing favorable for my concentration," Helena informed, and in spite of her best efforts, her hands acted of their own accord; one reached to cradle Myka's side, and the other delicately fingered the strap of the agent's small top.

"Turns out, it's not helping mine much, either," Myka husked, watching Helena's fingers and shivering lightly when they brushed against her bare shoulder. Myka took a step closer.

Helena took one back. "Mm," she hummed, chiding herself as much as Myka. "That, I'm afraid, would not be our cleverest move."

Myka bit her lip and nodded. "Right," she said, retracting her hands and folding them across her chest.

The withdrawal, Helena had hoped for; but she hastily detected a hint of rejection in Myka's tone and body language, and that wouldn't do. She used her hand at Myka's waist to pull her just slightly inward, so that she could reach up on her toes and press a long, but innocent kiss against Myka's lips without pressing their bodies together.

Myka sighed against her mouth, unmistakably frustrated, before she bit her lip again.

"I know, darling," Helena cooed. "I know."

"I want to touch you," Myka said quietly, looking down. "I mean, I _want_ you, but I just want to touch you. Hold you," Myka clarified, when she realized that she wasn't quite expressing her need clearly.

"Oh, darling," Helena whispered, more than flattered as she rubbed Myka's side reassuringly, "you _can_."

"I _can't_," Myka disagreed. "I want to hold you, but right now, every time we brush against each other, it's like my skin is on fire. I can't even look at you without wanting more."

"I understand how you feel, Myka," Helena calmed, lifting her fingers to brush a stray curl from Myka's cheek.

"When's this courtship supposed to start?" Myka asked, trying to inject some levity over the 'outdated' word, but her voice fell weakly as her arms continued to hug her chest.

"I had hoped tonight," Helena shared, her lips curving upward as Myka elevated her stance attentively.

"Really?"

"Yes," Helena chuckled. "Assuming, of course, that you're available."

"So available," Myka rapidly replied.

Helena laughed again. "I must say that I'm pleased. I've already called for reservations," she shared on a conspiratorial whisper.

"You did?" Myka asked, grinning widely.

Helena was charmed by her exuberance. "I did," she said lightly.

"So, tonight, huh?" Myka inquired, and Helena heard a small tremor of anxiety.

"Yes," she nodded, but then subsequently frowned. "Unless you're having second thoughts?"

Myka shook her head swiftly. "No, no, nothing like that! I just – " She laughed, amused at her own ponderings, before she admitted with a small measure of embarrassment, "I'm wondering what I should wear."

Helena laughed, as well. "Darling, you are welcome to wear anything you choose. I assure you, I find you utterly captivating, no matter your costume. Although, I will share that an evening gown would not be out of place."

Myka blushed at the compliment, and Helena rested a cool hand against her cheek, smiling sweetly at her. "You needn't be nervous, darling," Helena soothed. "I'm already in such great love with you," she reminded kindly, utilizing the semi-comforting words that both Pete and Claudia had tried on her.

"I like hearing that," Myka confessed softly, leaning into Helena's palm.

"Then I shall endeavor to say it more often," Helena promised. "For now, however, I have a few things to prepare for this evening, so I shall leave you to your running, and I'll meet you at seven, if that's suitable?"

"Okay," Myka said, shifting eagerly forward as Helena raised herself to touch her lips against Myka's again.

With a small laugh, Helena teasingly tapped her tongue against Myka's lips, enthralled by her anticipation, but before Myka's lips could part, she pulled herself away. Myka's huff did not escape her, but Helena had already turned and begun her trek back to her room before Myka could express any further frustration.

* * *

When Claudia and Pete allied forces and banged against her door raucously, Helena was minutely aggravated, but unsurprised.

She'd spent all day locked away in her room, trying to complete her design before she was due to meet Myka. She'd busied herself so much, in fact, that she hadn't had the opportunity to stress any further about their evening together. At least, not until she'd begun to prepare for it, anyway.

She tucked a final strand of hair into the elegant knot at the back of her head before she moved toward the door with bare feet. When she pulled it open, she merely stepped out of the way, now expecting the tornado that was Claudia to barrel in and make herself comfortable, which is precisely what the small redhead did, once admitted.

Pete released a low whistle, taking a step back to admire her red gown, before joining Claudia in a heap on the bed.

"Wow, HG," Claudia said. "You clean up _nice_."

"_Nice_ is an understatement," Pete chimed, temporarily besotted, as the 12-year-old boy inside of him just couldn't seem to help it.

"Thank you both," she said, offering a tepid smile. "I do hope Myka likes it."

Pete snorted, but it was Claudia who responded, "Myka's gonna flip like a pancake when she sees you."

"Mmm," Pete groaned, momentarily distracted from Helena's stunning appearance. "Pancakes! Claude, can we get pancakes later?"

"Anything to get out of the house tonight," Claudia grinned, winking overtly at Helena.

Ignoring her, with more effort than she felt should be necessary, Helena turned back toward the dresser, where her bag of make-up rested. She picked up the eyeliner to add some last minute touches.

"So?" Pete asked, looking toward the desk, and jumping eagerly to move toward the messy table. Atop it sat a gizmo that bore a resemblance to nothing that Pete had ever seen before. It was about the size of a hand, so, of course, Pete made to pick it up. "Is this it? What's it do?"

Helena smiled as she looked to her creation. It had taken a lot of time and a fair amount of tampering to make it functional, and she was quite proud of it. She so hoped Myka would enjoy it.

"You made Myka a present?" Claudia asked, grinning. "Aww, how sweet!"

"That isn't your toy to tinker with, Agent Lattimer," Helena admonished, moving toward him and smacking his hand away before lifting the item into her own palm.

"Aw, c'mon, HG!" Claudia pleaded, pouting. "Show us what the doohickey does!"

"It isn't a _doohickey_," Helena denied, aghast and truly offended.

"Well what do _you_ call it?" Pete leaped to Claudia's defense, clearly finding 'doohickey' an adequate description of the piece.

"I have yet to call it anything," she admitted. "If it serves its intent and pleases Myka, I'll assign it a name. There's no use naming an object that doesn't work, you know."

"I'm sure it can be used for other things aside from impressing Myka!" Pete declared. "If you tell me what it does, we can help you name it!"

"Yeah!" Claudia bounced excitably on the bed. "C'mon, please?"

"On the contrary, Pete," Helena began, tucking the object into a clutch that matched her dress with almost disturbing accuracy. "In the event that this particular object does not impress Myka, it is of no use to me. And neither of you will discover its purpose before she does," she said, firmly.

"But, but, but – " Claudia started, then jutted her bottom lip out even further.

"It was my idea!" Pete claimed.

"Indeed it was," Helena smiled. "In a roundabout manner, that is."

"And I don't even get a hint?" Pete scrunched his nose up. "That's no fair."

"No hints," Helena clucked. "I do, however, have something in the works for you. Each of you, actually."

"Presents?" Claudia perked up quickly.

"We like presents. Presents are good," Pete grinned.

"Unfortunately," Helena chuckled, moving to the closet to locate the appropriate pair of shoes to complete her outfit, "I was a bit crunched for time; Myka's gift obviously took precedence."

Both of them nodded understandingly, but with clear disappointment.

"Not to fret, though," Helena smiled brightly. "I'll have them finished in the next couple of days."

"Can you tell us what _they_ do?" Pete asked, hopefully.

"Not yet, I'm afraid," Helena shook her head. "But I assure you that you'll enjoy them. I just wanted to express, to both of you, how greatly I've appreciated your help."

"Aw, no need to get all mushy, HG," Claudia said, tossing a hand out nonchalantly, waving off her thanks.

"I just hope tonight goes well for you guys," Pete said earnestly. "What time are you supposed to meet Myka, anyway?"

Helena inhaled when she looked at the clock. "Now, it seems," she said quietly.

"Uh-oh," Claudia said, springing upwards. "No need to panic, HG! It's just Myka, and she's as excited for this as you are!"

"Yeah, don't sweat it, HG," Pete reassured, patting her on the shoulder as Claudia walked her out the door. "You guys are gonna have a great time, and come home to all kinds of lovin' and an empty house, because we are _so_ not gonna be here."

"Word," Claudia agreed, as they descended the steps behind HG.

But Helena stopped at the foot of the stairs, because Myka was there, sitting at the kitchen table with her legs crossed gracefully, fingers tapping nervously against a glass of what Helena assumed to be liquor.

Pete subtly nudged Helena's shoulder, but when she failed to respond, both Pete and Claudia's heads peeked out around her.

"Wow," Pete breathed, bringing Myka's attention to the stairwell, and all of the people crowded in it. "Myka, you look great."

"Thanks, Pete," she smiled gratefully.

"Yeah, Mykes, you look amazing!" Claudia agreed, taking Helena's arm gently and tugging her forward.

Shifting forward, Helena finally mustered some insufficient words as she regained her ability to move independently. "They're quite right, you know," she said softly, reaching to take Myka's wrist in her hand, and she brought it to her lips for a fleeting, tender kiss. "You're exquisite," she said, but frowned, and then shook her head. "I find myself at a loss for words; I'm afraid that's the best I can do at the moment, darling, and it doesn't begin to serve you justice."

Myka blushed. "No, that's good. Great, actually. So much better than the nothing that I came up with," she smiled bashfully. "You look beautiful, Helena."

Pete and Claudia exchanged a grin from behind Helena. The author and the self-proclaimed bookworm struggling for words was not a sight that either of them had expected to witness. They could have mocked it, but respectfully decided that the two were nervous enough without their input.

"You kids have a fun time tonight, okay?" Pete said, breaking an intense gaze that threatened awkwardness for him and Claudia. He leaned forward to grip Myka in a tight hug. "And you just try to keep it your pants until you get home."

Helena rolled her eyes. The words were distasteful, but they were whispered in such a charmingly _Pete_ manner that she couldn't find it within herself to be offended.

Myka, however, slugged him on the shoulder, and she couldn't suppress her ensuing smirk.

"Ow!" He yelped, but after a moment of rubbing his arm, he sobered himself. "Seriously, though, have fun, and don't get home too late," Pete said, smiling at her affectionately.

"We'll be back by ten, Dad," Myka teased.

"I agreed to no such terms," Helena objected, turning to her date for the evening. "And I therefore have no intention of heeding them."

Myka cast Pete a look that clearly read, _"I stand corrected,"_ and Claudia grinned.

"Got a late night planned, HG?"

Helena raised a brow, and replied, "I was very explicitly informed that there were some _chunks, _I believe was the word, that you had no desire to hear of."

Claudia blushed. "Jeez, alright. No need to get into any more detail than that, HG. Really. I already have a picture in my head that I would like to have _not there_."

"Yeah, me too," Pete said, dazed. "Only I'm pretty okay with it being there."

Myka punched him again. "Pete!"

"Ouch! That _had_ to leave a bruise!" He exclaimed, and then he abruptly pointed at Helena. "Get her out of here before she kills me! Jeez," he said, massaging his arm again.

"Righty-ho, then," Helena said, grinning, thoroughly entertained by Pete's well-deserved pain. "Shall we?"

"Mm," Myka assented, smiling. Helena led the way to the front door, and as an afterthought, Myka tossed over her shoulder, "By the way, Claude, Steve was looking for you. He mentioned something about getting pancakes, I think?"

"My best friend's a psychic!" Claudia exclaimed.

"Pancakes!" Pete's roar overruled hers, and Myka raised her brows curiously before Helena reached behind her to shut the door on them both, having had quite enough of their boisterous antics.

For the rest of the evening, Myka was hers. She didn't intend to waste any more of it bickering with the children.


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note:_ I figured I'd do two chapters today - partly because I know you'll be furious with me for the ending, but mostly because this is one of my favorite chapters thus far, and I'm hoping to get some feedback on it. :P

* * *

Dinner, Helena thought to herself proudly, had gone swimmingly. Myka seemed to have had a pleasant time, and by the second glass of wine, Helena was confident that any anxiety that may have lingered after they'd left the inn had vanished. Their meal had been delicious, and Helena was certain that Myka had agreed; following her first forkful of lasagna, Myka had released a gratified moan that Helena had followed with a small shift in her chair and a healthy swallow of wine before she'd been able to speak again.

"Helena," Myka said softly, as they made their way back through the doors of the sophisticated restaurant and to the car, "that was incredible. Thank you," she said sincerely, extending her hand, and gripping Helena's with her fingers tightly.

"I'm quite pleased that you enjoyed yourself," Helena replied. "But our night isn't quite finished yet."

"It's not?" Myka inquired, tipping her head slightly to the left.

"No," Helena said warmly, shaking her head. "I must admit, however, that the next part of my plan for the evening isn't exactly what one would call conventional."

"Where are we going?" Myka asked, looking up at Helena as she slid herself into the passenger seat and placed her hands in her lap, the door hanging open.

"Home, darling," Helena replied, the beginnings of a suggestive smile on the edge of her lips.

Myka reddened with the onset of desire, inspired by the mere thought of Helena taking her home, and Helena's smile loosened from coy to sympathetic. "Not to the bedroom just yet, I'm afraid," Helena said, bending her knees to lower herself closer to her partner. She reached her fingers up to graze the length of Myka's cheek with infinite care. "But Myka, my love, you may rest assured; I do intend to have you," she said, her tone indicating a need that had Myka's cheeks flushing impossibly brighter. "That gown is positively sinful, darling. I couldn't resist you tonight if I tried."

Helena had spent the entire evening struggling with that infernal piece of fabric. Myka's charcoal colored dress brilliantly complemented her eyes, and the diamond necklace that she wore to complete it hung from a thin silver chain that draped into the faintly exposed cavern between her breasts, lulling Helena's eyes downward to places where her gaze oughtn't linger. Myka was mesmerizing.

"Helena," Myka's voice fell on a whisper, "how much longer do you plan to keep me in this never ending state of distress? Please," she implored quietly, biting her lip for a brief moment before she could continue, looking up at Helena with dark eyes. "I need you."

Helena fought, and just barely conquered in a battle against a throaty groan. With no less longing than Myka had expressed, Helena murmured, "I'm certain that I couldn't endure it for much longer."

She moved her fingers to hold Myka's neck, and drew her date closer until their lips touched. Helena filled their fleeting kiss with promise, sighing into Myka's mouth with a greed that she couldn't overcome.

"I do want you so, Myka," she confessed. "Just a short while, darling. Can you wait a tiny bit longer for me?"

"I guess I can wait, just a tiny bit," Myka smiled, though Helena could see her impatience wearing at the corners of her mouth.

Helena pressed another short kiss to Myka's lips and moved to the other end of the car, more desperate now to wrap this evening up than she had been before – and she had been quite desperate to begin with.

Their drive was quiet, and Helena knew that Myka had all but lost interest in anything outside of satisfying their shared desires. But Helena had created something special for Myka, and it spoke of everything that she felt for this woman. When she made love to Myka, she intended for her to know, with unqualified clarity, how deeply she cared for her.

They pulled into the deserted Warehouse area not much later, and Helena slowed to put the car in park when they reached the bed and breakfast. Myka stepped from the car curiously, and Helena was pleased to note the slight flare of intrigue as Myka realized that, indeed, Helena had not been being cryptic when she had told her that they were going home.

Helena reached into her clutch to finger the device that she had placed within it earlier that night, and then followed Myka's lead, slipping from the car.

"Helena?" Myka searched, turning to her with clear bewilderment.

Helena smiled softly, and kept the object held behind her back with one hand, but touched Myka's cheek with the other.

"Darling Myka," she began, hearing an odd tremor of tension in her own voice. She was very much afraid that Myka might not appreciate her gift as much as she hoped. She had put so much of herself into its creation. "Spending this night with you has been lovely," she said softly. "And I hope to have many more like it in our future together."

"I hope so, too," Myka said, bringing her hand to hold Helena's wrist, sweeping her thumb against it as she picked up on Helena's apprehension, though she was clearly unsure of where it had come from.

"But – "

Myka frowned, and before she could help herself, she nervously blundered out, "Buts aren't good."

Helena was instantly charmed, but she persisted through Myka's interruption. "But you and I – we've had many lovely moments together, haven't we?"

"Yeah, we have," Myka agreed with a smile, tightening her hold on Helena's wrist for a short moment, reassuring her.

"I fell so quickly in love with you, Myka," Helena disclosed on a sigh. "So profoundly in love. And I can think of no better way to express my fondness for you than this," she informed, twisting her arm around to reveal the odd contraption that she held.

She caught Myka's hand in hers, and with the other, she placed the mechanism into Myka's palm.

"What is it?" Myka asked, eyeing the item with dedicated concentration.

"Press this," Helena aimed Myka's finger to a small, indented square of metal on the otherwise wooden piece, that, to Myka, slightly resembled a flying saucer.

Myka looked up at her inquisitively, but after a nod from Helena, accompanied by a small, timid smile, she pushed the panel inward.

"Nothing's happening," Myka said quietly, inspecting the thing in her hand with nearly brutal intensity.

"You aren't looking in the right place, darling."

Myka looked up at her, and Helena watched her lips part to ask where she was meant to be looking, but instead of words, a wide grin formed on Myka's lips.

"It's snowing!" She cried merrily, turning in a wide circle as she looked to the sky.

"Yes," Helena said, studying Myka with a tender smile upon her lips.

Oversized flakes of snow descended around them both, though they were few in number, and were spread a fair distance apart from one another. Despite it, though, Myka was thrilled.

Helena exulted in the sound of Myka's overjoyed laughter. "I love the snow!"

Laughing along with her partner, Helena shared, "I'm very well aware, Myka, darling."

"Is it real?" Myka inquired, swiveling back to face Helena.

"Yes and no. It's been modified. It won't stick," she informed gently, anticipating Myka disappointment with that particular facet. "But it would be a bit overwhelming for me if it did."

"Overwhelming?"

"Mm," Helena hummed her confirmation. "Stretch out your hand."

Myka reached a hand out toward Helena, but the British woman shook her head. "Not to me, darling. Catch one."

Myka eyed her with confused interest and a loving smile before she opened her palm to catch a snowflake that fell just behind Helena's ear. Helena knew, after testing the device herself, that the cool feel of the snow would reach Myka first.

Myka grinned, clearly delighted that, even if it wouldn't accumulate, it still felt like real snow. But Helena watched, and she waited as a dazed look affected Myka's countenance. When Myka drew in a sharp inhalation of breath, Helena knew that Myka understood the greater purpose of her invention, and that it was not simply to control the weather.

"Helena," she breathed several moments later, overcome with emotion. "What was that?"

"A memory," Helena shared gently. "My own memory, although I'm sure you have one similar."

Myka looked up at her with tears gleaming behind the bright green surface of her eyes. "How did you…?"

"I borrowed an artifact from the Warehouse," she admitted, but smiled when Myka opened her mouth to admonish her. "It's been safely returned, with no harm done," she assured.

"What artifact could possibly allow me to see what you saw, and feel… _everything_ that you felt?"

"The seat of a bicycle owned by Henry Molaison. The poor gentleman suffered a fall at the age of seven. He sustained severe brain damage in his left and right temporal lobes, and epilepsy was the outcome. They ultimately removed several portions of his brain, in an attempt to relieve his seizures, but his memory was severely impacted. The details are unimportant," Helena stated, waving her hand as she realized that she had begun to digress as a result of her trepidation. "The artifact allows one to pull events from the past and relive them. With some very cumbersome adjustments to the item's energy, I was able to develop a way to share them with you."

"Helena," Myka whispered, shaking her head, and gazing into her eyes with such heartfelt emotion, "we've wasted so much time. That was so long ago."

"I'm afraid I don't know which memory you bore witness to, darling. I incorporated quite a number of them into that little contraption," she enlightened.

"When we met after our talk at the cemetery," Myka told her, and then laughed softly. "When I told you that I'd known that you slipped that transmitter in my pocket."

Helena glowed. "That's one of my fonder memories, I do admit," she shared. "You've always been so very clever."

"I wish I'd known," Myka lamented quietly. "You were so…"

"Happy," Helena completed for her, smiling. "I was happy, Myka. You trusted me, and at that stage in my life, I knew no other truth. You were important to me then, as you always have been."

"Yeah, but – " Myka sighed dimly. "I remember that day, Helena. I remember being inexplicably just… _furious_ with Pete for interrupting that moment between us. I already loved you, then," she said tearfully, and then she laughed. "It was so absurd. I remember thinking that it was impossible to love someone after so little time spent together, but I did. I loved you, then, Helena."

"And I, you," Helena said. "But you know that already," she smiled dotingly. "Myka," Helena moved closer to her, and cradled Myka's face in her hands. "This is what matters," she said, pressing a tender kiss against the corner of her partner's mouth. "This," she repeated, fully covering Myka's lips with her own in a kiss that bled with passion. "I like to view those memories as a more… undefined courtship," she smiled fondly. "Reflecting on them now, I can see that you had similar feelings – but we couldn't have known that then," she shook her head, doing her best to convince her companion. "We can't change what's already come to pass. I'd know more about that than anyone," she reminded. "But we're here now, Myka. Together. Wells and Bering on an entirely new adventure," she beamed vibrantly. "I didn't show you those things to inspire regret in the time that we lost, my darling girl. I showed you those memories so that you could know, with no uncertainty, how powerfully I feel for you."

"Oh, honey," Myka said, and Helena felt herself flutter at the use of the pet name, which she had, before that moment, always believed to be foolish. "I already knew. I feel it every time you look at me, now. But this?" Myka said, holding up her new favorite thing, so that Helena could see. "This is… more than anyone has ever done for me," she smiled warmly. "And I know how difficult it can be for you, at times, to be open about your feelings, so to share these memories with me… Helena, it means so much," she insisted.

"You mean so much more to me than that, Myka," Helena chided gently. "Imparting my memories with you is a meager price to pay if it allows you to understand the weight of my affections."

Myka raised her free hand to Helena's face, and stroked it with delicate fingers. When she spoke, it emerged with whispered determination. "I'm ready to go upstairs now. If this thing has revealed anything to me tonight," Myka began, looking down at the device in her hands, before shifting her gaze back to Helena's, "it's that we've already waited far too long for this. And I don't want to wait any longer. Helena," she beseeched, eyes full of love and desperation, "don't make me wait any longer."

Helena covered Myka's mouth with her own, penetrating her with a spreading thirst that Helena could no longer stave off. "We've restrained ourselves quite long enough, darling," she declared breathlessly against Myka's lips. "I have no desire to delay our passions any further."

"Then take me to bed, Helena."


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note:_ The chapter you've all waited so patiently for. Brace yourselves, guys; this one got pretty intense, even for me. Also, the reviews for last chapter blew my mind. More of those, please! : )

* * *

Brief touches were all that the two could manage; quiet, impassioned touches that merely hinted at their shared desperation as they ascended the stairs – a glancing brush against Helena's wrist, a slight graze of Helena's fingers to Myka's back, and the sweet flattening of Myka's lips against Helena's uncovered shoulder as she undid the lock to her bedroom door.

When the lock finally clicked loose, Helena pivoted to face the agent she had fallen so treacherously in love with.

She raised her hands to Myka's face, not quite holding it, but indulging herself in a caress, mapping the planes of Myka's cheeks. "Darling Myka," she whispered, the short sentiment overflowing with her affections.

The pads of two slim fingers met Helena's mouth, and she surveyed Myka as she shook her head. "No. I don't need words right now, Helena," she interrupted quietly. "I just need you."

She felt Myka's fingers embrace her neck, but Helena's gaze kept averting to Myka's mouth, painted red with wine and desire. She leaned forward to sketch her lips across her partner's in a kiss that she had intended to be sweet, but though it began that way, that was not how ended.

Helena had felt Myka's reserved need the moment their mouths connected, but the instant that Helena's tongue tempted her lip, Myka's nails burrowed into her neck, and Helena gasped at the abrupt throb of pain that whistled down her spine. And then Myka's kiss had become insistent; her tongue dove into Helena's mouth as soon as her lips had parted to draw breath, and Myka shifted Helena backward until she was against the door. Myka searched furiously for the want in Helena that matched her own, and Helena offered it to her, crushing her beneath the wrath in her kiss as her hand eased back to thread Myka's hair through her fingers. With a quickness that bordered implausibility, Helena spun Myka around, trapping her between Helena and the wood behind her.

And then Helena moaned, because Myka defiantly bit her lip when Helena took power over their embrace, and as though she'd been shocked into awareness, Helena tore her mouth away swiftly, resting her forehead against Myka's, and shaking her head.

"Not like this, darling," she whispered breathlessly, loosening her hold in Myka's hair with great effort, and sweeping her thumb beneath her ear with a hot touch as she fought to regain her control. "I won't take you this way."

"Helena, please," Myka whimpered feverously.

"I will take _everything_ from you tonight, Myka," Helena promised. "I will take your passion," she murmured, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss against the line of Myka's jaw. "I will take your need," she continued, peppering another sensitive kiss against Myka's cheek. "I will take your desire." She matched a kiss to the opposite cheek. "And I will take your love, darling," she whispered, touching her lips tenderly to Myka's forehead. "But, for tonight, I will take you this way," she breathed, drawing her lips across Myka's in a slow, deep motion that Myka mewled into, bending herself into Helena, and holding her fingers around Helena's hips as though they were the only thing to keep her grounded. Helena poured love into the kiss, and imparted every dangerous and profound emotion that she felt for Myka into her partner's mouth. And when she felt she'd adequately demonstrated her intent, Helena eased away, pressing a final, brushing kiss to Myka's lips before she asked softly, her mouth pulling no more than a breath's distance away from Myka's, "Do you understand, darling?"

Myka looked up at her with glassy eyes, bursting with love and devotion. "I think I might like your way better," Myka whispered, laughing ever so delicately, and then she bit her lip. "For tonight," she added, with a small, coy smile.

And then Myka reached behind her to twist the doorknob, leading Helena into the room by her hand. Helena shadowed her, closing the door behind them, unable to avert her eyes from the woman stood before her.

Myka kissed her then; leisurely, though Helena could still feel the barely restrained tension behind it. And Helena lost herself in Myka's mouth, sweeping a hand up her side, and sighing into Myka's kiss. Helena kept her there, standing in the center of the room, as her tongue delved into Myka's mouth.

And she took her time, because she had imagined this moment for so long; this moment just before she fully gifted her love to Myka, and could worship every facet of this brilliant woman.

Her hands glided over the material of Myka's dress, and even through the fabric, Helena could discern well enough that there were a number of spots for her to pay homage to that would have Myka keening under her touch.

Helena brushed her fingers against the zip at the back of Myka's gown, but didn't tug it downward. Myka responded to that lack of action with a sigh, and slanted her face away from the heated kiss; Helena didn't need to see her expression to know that a plea was hot on her tongue.

Before Myka could speak, Helena breathed in the scent of her perfume, dipping her head into Myka's neck. "This fragrance is intoxicating," she whispered, conscious of the fact that her warm breath, and the stroke of her lips against Myka's flesh were driving her companion toward insatiable thirst. "It's fitting of you," Helena shared, hushed. "But your presence is quite inebriating on its own."

"Helena – " Myka whimpered.

"I know, darling," Helena mouthed against her skin, and placed her hands at Myka's waist, exerting just enough pressure at her sides to indicate that Myka should turn around. Helplessly, Myka obeyed her undeclared instruction. "I needed a moment," she alleged softly, bending her neck to place a transient kiss to Myka's shoulder. "The woman I love is standing at my bedside," she whispered against Myka's ear, and Myka trembled. Helena mercilessly persisted. "And she's aching for my touch," Helena tantalized her, moving her hands to the zipper again, grasping it between her thumb and index finger, but lowering it with an agonizingly sluggish pace. "And I so sincerely intend to satisfy that ache," she informed quietly, and then contradicted her own soft tones as she took the lobe of Myka's ear between her teeth with more force than was strictly necessary.

But Myka moaned her pleasure, and arched her head back toward Helena's shoulder. Helena lips hovered over Myka's flesh, and then, very softly, she rested an openmouthed kiss beneath her ear. Then another at her neck, her tongue striking Myka's skin, and Helena felt herself warm when Myka pressed her back further into Helena in response.

Helena moved her hands to Myka's shoulders, and, while barely skimming her fingers against Myka's flesh, she lowered the thin straps of that wicked gown down Myka's arms. She didn't turn Myka, though. Instead, she lifted her hands from Myka's stunning frame, and withdrew her body from Myka's completely, circling around her like a lioness, surveying the results of her suggestive touches.

Myka's lips were parted to accommodate the pants that she simply could not suppress, and those lips were such a beautiful, swollen red. Her head turned to watch her tormentor, but Helena wouldn't allow Myka's penetrating gaze to rush her.

She shifted her eyes downward from Myka's face to take in the rest of her figure, and with deep satisfaction, Helena noted that the woman's dress was beginning to fall.

Helena could see the straps sloping down Myka's arms, but she was more heavily centered on her front. The tops of Myka's breasts had been exposed as Helena had loosened the dress, and Helena struggled against the strong desire to yank it from Myka's body to reveal all of her to Helena's hungry eyes.

But Helena reserved herself. She moved forward, fully pressing herself against Myka's form, and she did not miss the resulting gasp from Myka's mouth that followed. Her hands climbed up Myka's body, beginning at her hips and moving upward, almost more slowly than Myka could stand, until both of Helena's hands plunged into her hair.

Helena brought her mouth so close to Myka's that when she spoke, she was certain that their lips would touch. So speak, Helena did.

"So long, I've dreamt of this," she voiced. "Just this, Myka. Burying my hands into these remarkable curls."

Myka's mouth opened, but words never came out.

Helena smiled at her seductively. "Tell me, darling," she teased softly. "Tell me what you've hungered for."

"You, Helena," Myka said, her speech so hushed that Helena was sure, if she'd been an inch further away, she'd have missed it. "Just… _you_."

"Mm," Helena hummed, so clearly pleased with the admission. "And you shall have me, my love," she assured, and then herded Myka's lips beneath hers, sinking in the feel of the agent's touch.

Her hands skated down Myka's arms, taking the straps of her gown with them, and Helena stepped back just enough to allow the dreadfully flattering material to slither down to Myka's feet.

Their kiss never broke.

Myka's hands then rediscovered motion, and Helena felt the fever in them as they located the clasp to Helena's own dress beneath her arm. She allowed Myka to lower it, as she was sure that it was the only comforting thing that she could do for her love, in that moment.

When Helena's dress fell, she eased away from Myka's mouth, and moved further backward, toeing off her shoes with the motion. And when she was far enough away to get a decent look at her lover, Helena found herself winded.

"Helena," Myka murmured, eyeing every inch of her exposed flesh with great reverence, "you're… staggering," Myka finished, too absorbed in her visual exploration to feel any embarrassment over her choice of words.

"Not half so much as you, darling," Helena rasped, with more difficulty than she would have liked to admit.

She shifted around her clothes to find herself flush against Myka again, and Myka moaned at the feel of their bare flesh fusing together. That anguished sound tested Helena's will, but she took Myka's chin with her fingers, and covered her mouth with amorous, slow insistence. She urged Myka back toward the bed with a second hand at her hip. "Lie down, my darling," she counseled, separating their mouths just briefly. "Lie down for me, hm?"

Powerless, and apparently quite aware of it, Myka did as Helena asked.

Helena blanketed Myka's trembling body, straddling her lover's thigh with two of her own, and she pressed a loving kiss against Myka's mouth as she stroked her hip with deft fingers. Myka sighed at the touch, and looked up at Helena with such need that Helena couldn't help but to lower herself to meet Myka's lips, for just one feverishly searing kiss.

Myka's hands immediately clamored against Helena's back as she stole desperation from Helena's mouth, and the familiar sting of biting nails scouring down her spine had Helena's hips involuntarily rolling into Myka's in a motion that she couldn't have prevented. Myka moaned out her desire, and Helena fought to ease their bruising kiss, shortening the touches of her lips to Myka's until she was adoringly closing her mouth over her partner's in brief, considered motions again.

And when Myka looked up at her, after having a very small moment to calm her arduous actions, her eyes were filled with interminable love and commitment, and an immense longing that she made no attempt to veil. Helena stroked her cheek with her thumb, and hushed soothingly, "Shh, my love. My provocations will be well worth the torment soon enough," she promised, and bent her neck low to press a kiss to Myka's collarbone, where she brushed her tongue against the skin that she found there.

Myka's ensuing sigh was needy and impatient, but Helena reveled in the sound that she had created. And she sought to create another, touching her lips over Myka's heart. Another, just above Myka's breast, and she could feel Myka's breath quickening as her lover's hands tangled into Helena's hair.

Though Myka's touch fled straight to Helena's core, Helena had needed no coaxing. She hovered over Myka's breast for one, tantalizing moment, her hot breath reducing Myka nearly to sobs, and she took Myka's raised nipple into her mouth, flicking her tongue against it delicately.

Myka's hips shot from the bed as she cried out her appreciation, and Helena struggled to lower them, keeping Myka pinned with her thigh pressing hard against Myka's center as she lavished fierce devotion upon Myka's sensitive flesh. She felt her body growing hot with want, and couldn't help but to grind herself against Myka's leg, so yearning to feel this woman. She keened against Myka's breast, unable to help herself as shameless desperation swelled within her at the motion.

And then her lips shifted back up to Myka's, because she could feel, in the tightening of Myka's hands in her hair, and the persistent, erratic rise of her leg into Helena's core, that any further explorations of her body would have Myka cresting before it was time.

With dexterous fingers, Helena drew a line down Myka's thigh, and back up the inside of it again. Helena pulled away from Myka then, studying her as she quaked beneath Helena's figure, an unspoken plea begging in Myka's eyes. Myka's cheeks were flushed bright red, but with the way that Myka's thigh was surging against her, she was certain that she was similarly colored.

Helena couldn't resist Myka's allure any longer. With scarcely a moment's worth of thought, she submerged two fingers deep inside Myka's heat, and her own core suffered a sharp spasm as Myka's head violently reared backward, and she outright screamed. Her hips dipped instantly against Myka's thigh, but despite her own arousal, Helena granted no reprieve. She buried her questing mouth in Myka's neck, withdrawing her fingers, and biting down hard against Myka's flesh as she drove her hand forward again.

"Helena," Myka gasped. "Oh, _God_," she hissed as Helena repeated the motion.

Helena's lips seared against Myka's neck, and Myka brought her leg into Helena again, fingers clawing down her spine. When she felt her own body begin to tremble, Helena's teeth raked firmly over her lover's skin, and a deep moan vibrated against Myka's flesh. Myka writhed beneath her. Helena scraped her thumb, just for a moment, against Myka's sweet spot – but that short second was all that Myka needed.

Myka thrashed upward, every heated inch of her body yielding into Helena's, and Helena felt Myka's leg rise, driving into her center for a final time, and, Christ, Helena's hips plunged against it, powerless as she shuddered into her own climax, and exulting in the cries that spoke of Myka's own.

She fell into Myka, breathless, with her head tucked over the woman's heart, but she could hear Myka's staggered, sated pants above her.

"Wow," Myka breathed, winded. "Helena," she sighed, "just… wow."

"I suppose," Helena murmured playfully, still regaining her breath, "that sexual chemistry will not be a concern for you and I to deal with."

A burst of husked laughter erupted from Myka's throat. "Whatever you want to call it," she began, and Helena could hear the smirk in her voice as she agreed, "that _definitely_ won't be a concern."

Helena felt Myka's lips press a tender kiss to the crown of her head, and she smiled.

"It was a decent date, then?" She asked cheekily.

"No bragging from you," Myka chided, and Helena felt her chest shift as she shook her head. "I haven't even gotten a turn yet," she reminded.

"Oh, darling," Helena chuckled warmly, shifting to the side just a bit so that she rested beneath Myka's outstretched arm. "I need a moment to recover before anymore turns take place."

"Yeah," Myka respired. "Yeah, me too. That was…"

"Powerful?" Helena offered, painting small circles against Myka's defined stomach with mild touches.

"Yeah," Myka agreed.

"Mm," Helena hummed, smiling. "I did caution you about the intensity of my love for you, Myka, darling."

Myka sighed contently, and pressed another affectionate kiss to Helena's head. And then she earnestly whispered into Helena's hair, "I've never felt so loved in my life."


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note:_ Guys, I typed this chapter three times trying to integrate some upcoming, important things, but all that came out was fluff. _So much fluff._ I hope you're not opposed. Please review! I'm glad you all enjoyed their sexy times! : )

* * *

Helena hazily shuddered her eyes open, perplexed, as she was certain that a moment ago she had been dreaming of something positively delightful. She lay on her stomach and tried to recall it, but as she attempted to focus her eyes, she fathomed that the dream had been lost as she had grappled to hold onto her reality.

She hummed contently, though, when a moment later she felt a stroke of warmth against her back, and she was suddenly certain that whatever she had dreamt of, it couldn't possibly have been any grander than this.

"Myka, darling," she purred over her shoulder through a sleepy fog, as her lover breathed another soft kiss against her spine, "that's divine."

"You're awake," Myka murmured into her skin.

"And more than pleased to be, if this is my reward," Helena replied lightly.

Myka skated up the length of Helena's frame, and slanted her lips against Helena's shoulder.

"I was rather enjoying that, darling," Helena lamented with a small sigh.

"Maybe," Myka said, smiling uncertainly. "But I don't think you would have enjoyed it for much longer."

"There, I find I must beg to differ," Helena asserted, offering a lazy, demonstrative smile. "I could relish in that touch for eternity, my love."

Myka leaned forward and brushed a tender kiss against that smile, and nuzzled Helena's nose briefly before she laid her head down on Helena's pillow. "Does it hurt?" Myka asked, and Helena was sure that there was some trace of distress in there somewhere.

"Does what hurt, darling?" She asked kindly, stretching languorously and rotating onto her side, finding herself no more than an inch from Myka's face as she rested her head against her flattened hand.

"Your back," Myka expanded.

"Should it?" Helena asked curiously.

She felt Myka's fingers at her side, and then her nails, very deliberately raking upward, but just enough for Helena to feel it, and nowhere near roughly enough to cause pain. Helena purred again, savoring Myka's nimble, morning caresses.

"It's scratched," Myka informed. Then she paused, before she added, "Helena, it's scratched a lot."

"Ah," Helena said, chuckling with comprehension. "Well, I'd certainly imagine that it is."

"I'm sorry," Myka muttered gently.

"Dear Myka, you need never apologize to me for expressing your passions," Helena admonished, taking Myka's cheek in her palm. "And if you'll take a moment to recollect, I believe you'll find that I rather appreciated your more aggressive touches," she disclosed flirtatiously. "But as we seem to be lingering on the subject of sexual injury, it appears that I did quite a number on your collar," Helena said evenly, brushing her fingers beneath Myka's ear and over a particularly colorful bruise.

"I was pretty sure you'd left a mark," Myka told her softly.

"I quite hoped I would," Helena admitted, taking little care to conceal a satisfied smirk. "Very few things could conceivably name you mine more adeptly than that, darling."

"Oh, I see," Myka said slowly, smiling playfully. "So, this was intentional?"

Grinning, Helena surged overtop of Myka, using her arms to hold her up as she coyly asked, "And if it was?"

Myka wrapped her legs around Helena, and overturned her with apparent ease. "Was it?" Myka asked friskily.

"Oh!" Helena exclaimed, briefly alarmed as Myka successfully pinned her beneath her slender figure, and then she laughed, because she was so dearly enchanted with this woman. "Perhaps a bit," she admitted, in answer to Myka's question. "Although, by that point in time, some might have gone so far as to call it self-defense," she teased, easing her hands over Myka's hips.

"Alright," Myka chuckled and rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, honey."

"Mm," Helena hummed, "I find I quite like it when you identify me with that particular endearment."

"You can be such a softy sometimes," Myka smiled caringly, stroking the fingers of one hand down Helena's cheek, and keeping herself raised with the other.

When it was clear that Helena didn't understand her meaning, Myka shook her head before saying, "Nevermind." And then she cheekily added, "You'd be offended by it anyway."

And then Myka bent low to cover Helena's mouth for a fond, lethargic kiss, which Helena folded into blithely, matching every languid motion with another of her own.

When they parted, Helena murmured, "I so enjoy waking to you, Myka, darling."

"Me too," Myka sighed against her mouth. "And I really want to show you how much I enjoy it," she said, pressing another fleeting kiss to Helena's lips before she finished, "but I think it'll have to wait."

"And why is that, darling?"

"Because I'm _really_ hungry," Myka smiled bashfully, clearly embarrassed.

"I would have sworn that I'd remembered to feed you," Helena laughed, tightening her fingers briefly around Myka's hips in a warm squeeze.

"Yeah," Myka said, rolling her eyes. "Right before you had me working off all the calories," she finished, and then she flushed abruptly, realizing a moment too late that her words had actually been reasonably bold.

Smiling affectionately, Helena allowed the comment to fade, before she mercifully offered, "Shall I make you breakfast, darling?"

"Can you cook?" Myka asked, surprised. "I've never seen you cook," she reflected skeptically.

"I was reared in the 1800s, my love," Helena reminded. "Though I still shudder at the concept, women then were virtually obligated to retain at least a rudimentary knowledge of the culinary arts."

"Right," Myka said slowly, clearly having briefly forgotten that Helena was not actually from this time.

"Come, darling," Helena encouraged, standing. "Let's satisfy that appetite of yours, and see if you can't satisfy mine when we're finished, hm?"

"I need clothes," Myka prompted, fighting a blush at Helena's rather audacious remark.

"I disagree, darling. I much prefer you without them," she trifled, winking at her lover over her shoulder.

Nevertheless, Helena rummaged through her drawers and unearthed an oversized, long-sleeved sleep shirt and a pair of grey cotton shorts for Myka to wear. After dressing, the two ambled down to the kitchen, exchanging feathery kisses on the way, and Helena set to pulling out the pans and ingredients necessary for their meal, while Myka began to make a pot of coffee.

"Tea, darling?" Helena asked, after setting some bacon in a pan, glancing to her right from her position at the stove to set eyes on her partner.

Myka bent to rest her elbows on the counter in front of the coffee maker. "I'm holding out for the good stuff," she shared, smiling, as the machine emitted a particularly loud grinding noise.

"I do seem to recall asking you for coffee, once, not long ago," Helena raised a brow and referred back to Myka's departure from Wisconsin. "You seemed rather uninterested in the notion, at the time," she recounted, flipping a strip of bacon in the frying pan, and moving beside Myka to press her back to the countertop. She rested her hands beside her hips and gripped the edge of the granite as she looked down at her lover.

"Yeah, but, come on," Myka laughed. "Saving the world is obviously a much better distraction."

"A distraction from what, darling?" Helena inquired.

Myka smiled softly when she shifted her head to face her. "From you, Helena."

Helena tilted her head to the side curiously. "The lack of distraction was the basis for my reasoning, Myka," she informed gently. "The purpose of asking you for coffee was to grant us the opportunity to spend a moment of uninterrupted time together."

"Which would have been nice," Myka said slowly. "And extremely dissatisfying."

"Oh?" Helena asked, puzzled.

"I wanted you, Helena," Myka said darkly. "Being around you was hard enough, even while we were busy saving the world. Having coffee wouldn't exactly have been a good substitute for what I wanted, and the time spent alone with you would have left me wanting it more."

Helena opened her mouth to respond, but as she did, they heard the front door creak open to reveal loud chatter, and a rowdy Pete almost instantly exclaimed, "I smell bacon!"

Helena knew that her eyes had turned dark with desire, because the reaffirmation of Myka's need for her had Helena feeling warm all over, but she felt mildly appeased when she acknowledged that similar feelings were reflecting in Myka's eyes as she looked up at her.

A moment later, however, Pete, Jinks, and Claudia burst into the kitchen with clear excitement at the idea of food, but they quieted when they caught on to the tension that they had just created.

"Uh… Are we interrupting something?" Claudia asked awkwardly.

"You always seem to be," Helena replied, momentarily frustrated as she averted her gaze from Myka's and moved back to the stove. She didn't miss Myka's private smirk at the irritation behind her comment, just before she moved to rifle through the cabinet above her for a coffee mug.

"Hey, do we get bacon, too, or does Myka just get some 'cause she gave you some?" Pete asked, grinning broadly.

"_Nice,_" Claudia said, clenching her hand into a fist and bumping it against Pete's.

"I know, right?" He said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops and shifting his pants up higher, clearly proud of his naughty quip.

Steve laughed, though the guilty look on his face expressed that he did so reluctantly, and then he shook his head and said apologetically, "I tried to keep them out of the house for a little longer, but – "

"We got excited!" Pete jumped to defend himself before Jinks had even finished blaming him.

"Yeah, we just wanted to know how it went!" Claudia insisted. "Jeez, Jinksy, you big tattletale," she added, pinching him on the arm sharply.

"Ow," Steve grumbled, shifting away from her with an almost indiscernible pout.

"It was so much quieter when you were gone," Myka jested, smiling at them over her cup of coffee.

"I'm not entirely sure that that's true, darling," Helena argued offhandedly, drawing her spatula across a pan over the stove to flip an egg. "I find you can be reasonably communicative, with the proper provocation."

"Hello!" Pete said, rearing his head backward with surprise.

Myka's cheeks had flared red, and she lobbed a sugar packet at Helena's head, at which the British woman laughed liberally.

Claudia mouthed a 'wow' at Jinks, and with wide eyes, he offered a slow, emphatic nod in return.

"You know what," Myka returned defensively. "I don't really remember you embracing the silence, either, okay?" She said, and though she'd launched with testiness, she was laughing by the end.

"I rarely do, darling," Helena admitted cheekily, and tossed a couple slices of bacon and an over-medium egg onto a plate, before moving to the toaster and, with excellent timing, withdrawing the slices of bread that had just popped up.

"Okay," Claudia said, dragging out the 'oh' sound gracelessly. "So, last night went well, huh?" She grinned, clapping her hands together delightedly.

Helena handed Myka the plate of food that she held, and she watched, entertained, as Myka swiftly struck Pete's hand while he reached for a sliver of her bacon.

"Quite well, indeed," Helena smiled, rather pleased with herself for arranging an evening that Myka had so obviously enjoyed.

"We had a great time," Myka said honestly, smiling as she sunk her teeth into a piece of toast.

"Did you get your present?" Pete asked excitably.

"Yeah, what is it?" Claudia asked, bouncing on her heels.

Myka's smile turned fond as she recalled her gift, but she nodded, and said simply, "I got it."

"And?" Claudia asked eagerly.

"Come _on_, Mykes!" Pete pleaded agitatedly. "HG wouldn't tell us what the doohickey does!"

"It isn't a doohickey," Myka shook her head at him, and Helena shut her mouth against the same response, pleased that she didn't have to spit back the reply herself. "It's more like a widget," Myka expanded, seating herself at the table with her breakfast.

"Ohhhh," Pete said, as though truly having a revelation about the integrity of the item. "Sorry, HG," he said, shrugging sheepishly. "It _looked_ like a doohickey."

"There's a difference?" Steve asked, perplexed.

"Apparently there is when you speak Pete," Claudia replied, shrugging helplessly.

"Doohickeys have much less science-y stuff," Pete explained. "Widgets are _way_ cooler."

Helena raised her brow at the clarification, and placed two slices of bacon onto a plate with some toast and eggs, wordlessly handing it to Pete.

"Seriously?" He grinned exuberantly. "Aw, man, thanks, HG!" He paused, and then leaned forward to sniff it. "It's not poisoned or anything, right?" He asked, suddenly squinting at it suspiciously as he sat at the table next to Myka.

"You might be surprised, on occasion, what you can earn with an apology, Agent Lattimer," Helena replied didactically.

Myka smiled over at her with blatant affection, and, besotted, Helena tenderly grazed her fingers over Myka's back as she passed her to make her way back to the cooking area.

"Although I loathe to give you the impression that this is an activity I often engage in," Helena sighed, turning to Steve and Claudia, "shall I make a plate for you, as well?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Steve declined politely, shaking his head.

Speaking loudly, and intentionally overriding Steve, Claudia nearly shouted, "Yes, breakfast would be _amazing_, HG, thank you!" She elbowed Steve to the gut.

"Ooph," Steve hunched over.

"What is it with the women in this place, man?" Pete scratched his head, bewildered. "You're all so violent…"

"Shut up, Pete," Myka and Claudia chimed in synchrony, and Helena chuckled her amusement.

Though she'd planned to ravish Myka after their breakfast, Helena found herself reluctantly admitting that their day had only been improved by the return of their little family. It had thus far been a perfect morning, and Helena marveled at her good fortune.


	13. Chapter 13

"We got a ping!" Artie called out gruffly.

"Aw, man," Pete groaned, throwing himself back in his seat at the breakfast table and dropping his fork dramatically.

"Artie, it's _Sunday_," Myka reproved.

Helena stood behind her and placed a hand on Myka's shoulder, gripping it comfortingly, and Myka raised her fingers to embrace hers as she sighed.

"I know what day of the week it is," Artie scowled at her, and then looked back down at his laptop briefly, before his eyes shot upward again. "What's this?" He asked, gesturing wildly with his free hand at Myka and Helena's intimate stance.

"They're a thing," Pete informed, grinning. "They had an official date and stuff! And from what we've heard, it went _really _well," he added on an exaggerated whisper.

Myka, from her seat beside him, punched him in the arm.

"Ouch! Didn't anyone ever teach you that violence is_ not_ the answer? 'Cause if they did, I think you misheard them," he whined.

"Quiet! Be quiet," Artie demanded, weary of their exchange. "I was going to send the two of you," Artie said cantankerously, indicating Pete and Claudia, "but now I'm sending Pete and Myka, instead."

"What?" Helena shifted forward defiantly, noting without much care that Steve began collecting the dishes and moved toward the kitchen to wash them.

Myka reached for her hand, and soothed her thumb over Helena's knuckles quietly.

"Do you have a problem with that, Agent Wells?" Artie challenged.

"Yes, in fact!" Helena proclaimed, having very little concern for the warning in Artie's tone.

"No, Artie, it's fine," Myka said compliantly, though Helena was sure that she heard something else hidden in her words.

"Myka – " Helena tried.

But Myka shook her head, and looked up at her. "It's fine," she reiterated, though her eyes, as they connected with Helena's, said something entirely different. "I'll go with Pete."

"Good," Artie nodded, eyeing her with suspicious approval, before abruptly looking down again. "Because Chicago's in a lot of trouble. You two," he said, hastily setting his computer down, and reaching into his back pocket before thrusting two scraps of paper at Pete, "are on the next flight out."

"I think you skipped some stuff, Artie," Pete reminded, as Artie sat down at the table. "Like what we're looking for and, oh, maybe what kinda artifact-y voodoo we can expect when we get there?"

"The antennas – " Artie began, but stopped to glower over his shoulder, as Claudia had moved to hover over him so that she could view the computer screen.

"I'm just looking, Artie! Jeez," she huffed, but didn't shift away.

"The antennas," he started again, his voice slow and dangerous, as a warning to Claudia, before his speech picked up pace again, "of the Willis Tower – formerly the Sears Tower – are acting up again."

"The antennas?" Pete said disbelievingly. "At the top of Sears Tower? Artie, how are we supposed to get up there?"

"Find a way," Artie demanded. "It was done in 2008, and it will be done again."

"Hold up there, guru. I don't understand," Claudia frowned.

Artie puffed up, aggravated, and then rushed to explain, "Trump Tower was topped out in 2008, and completed in 2009. Willis Tower evidently felt threatened by it, because the antennas at the top started emitting some strange frequency that only select people were able to hear. There were sixty-five more homicides in 2008 than the year before, and there were fifty-four fewer deaths the year after – because we gooed them in December of 2008 and put a stop to the murderous impulses that the antennas were diffusing."

"Wait, wait," Claudia said. "I thought there had to be some kind of human interaction or something to create an artifact?"

"Have you ever been to Chicago?" Artie lowered his glasses to peek at her overtop of them. "They talk about that tower like it's a person."

"Yeah!" Pete said emphatically, snapping his fingers as he recalled something. "I took a tour there once. My guide kept calling the tower a he, and I thought it was weird. He kept going on about how it was bold and demanding, with broad shoulders and a lot of pride. If it _is_ a he," Pete said, then blew out a hard sigh, "he's got some serious overcompensation issues."

Claudia snorted. "So, what? It just created its own artifact in the antennas?"

"We're not clear on that," Artie admitted reluctantly. "We think it might have something to do with one of the engineers, but the antennas weren't added to the building until 1982, and there's been some serious debate over whether they count toward the height of the building, because, _technically_, they weren't part of the original building plans, and they also serve another function, which is to transmit signals for local radio and television broadcasts."

"So the building's feeling threatened again?" Pete asked. "Why?"

"Freedom Tower," Myka enlightened.

"Correct," Artie pointed at her, and then began again, enthusiastically. "In November, the CTBUH – Council on Tall Buildings and Urban Habitat – is going to meet and discuss the spires at the top of One World Trade Center, otherwise known as Freedom Tower. Several people have voiced issues about Freedom Tower suffering the same antenna issue as the Willis Tower, since they, too, have transmitters imbued within them. However – !" Artie bellowed, interjecting his own ramblings vigorously, and pushing his glasses up his nose. "It is almost unanimously agreed that the Freedom Tower will be declared the tallest building in the United States once that meeting takes place, if for no other reason than for its symbolism to our country."

"So, basically, Big Willis is pissed off that someone else is gonna take his gold medal at the Olympics this year?" Claudia asked.

Artie nodded. "In metaphorical terms, yes. That's the idea."

"The antennas," Pete cited his task with doubt. "You want us to go to the top of Sears Tower, and goo the antennas."

"That is correct," Artie nodded again. "No snagging, no bagging, no tagging. Just goo it."

"How did they do it last time?" Myka inquired.

"They were airlifted in by the Warehouse's emergency plane," Artie informed.

"We have a _plane_?" Claudia demanded to know.

"Seriously!" Pete exclaimed, irritation apparent in his voice. "Why have we been flying coach for four years?"

"Did you not hear?" Artie replied with matching irritation. "_Emergency_. As in, only to be used _in case of_."

"And a pair of temperamental antennae that inspire murder and rest at the rooftop of the highest building in America doesn't qualify as an emergency?" Helena asked, raising her brow insolently.

She was displeased with Artie, and making no effort to mask it. Being partners with Myka had been the only consistent thing about her life since she'd arrived back at the Warehouse, and she was not eager to sacrifice that simply because Artie was grumpy about their relationship. Additionally, she was a bit hurt – not that she'd admit it aloud – that Myka had failed to express unhappiness about their impending separation.

"It would," Artie said, scowling, "except that our emergency plane is apparently out of commission, for the time being. So find another way, before more people get killed."

"Yeah, piece of cake," Pete scoffed.

"Your flight leaves in two hours!" Artie said, closing his laptop with unnecessary force and making his way back through the door, presumably heading back to the Warehouse.

Helena watched as Myka stood wordlessly, gripping Helena's fingers in a tight squeeze before she made her way up the stairs. She shifted forward to follow behind her, but Pete put his arm on her shoulder and shook his head.

"I got this one," he told her. "Trust me. C'mon, Claude," he said, and the diminutive girl nodded and followed him up the stairs.

Feeling helpless and emotionally winded, Helena made for the kitchen to help Steve with the dishes, as it was the only task that she could presently think to perform.

Steve looked up at her and smiled, and she attempted to return it, but it wasn't genuine.

"Are you okay?" Steve asked quietly. "I mean, not that you have to talk to me or anything, but…" He trailed off, shrugging.

"I find that my thoughts are disorganized, at the moment," Helena admitted.

Steve nodded. "I get that," he said, and then looked over at her again. "She was really upset you know," he offered. "Myka," he clarified. "After they got back from Wisconsin."

"I'm aware," Helena returned, clearly displeased with the topic of his chosen conversation.

"I didn't say it to make you feel bad," Steve quickly asserted, raising one hand from the soapy dishwater and holding it up innocently. "It's just – " he sighed, and then began again. "I think Claudia and Pete know Myka really well, and they know that she wouldn't want you to see her as weak, so I'm guessing they haven't told you very much about what happened."

"Pardon?" Helena queried, puzzled. She wasn't aware than anything particular had _happened_; she'd merely been made aware of the fact that Myka had been very upset in her absence.

"Yeah," Steve said quietly, nodding. "I just – I kinda think you should know. Because I like you," he said, smiling, "and I like Myka, and I think that you guys could really have something great together."

Helena smiled softly, though it was small and hesitant.

"What is it that you feel I should know?" Helena asked.

"Myka kind of had a breakdown after they left you in Wisconsin," he said gently. "Pete said she cried the whole way back, and then she didn't leave her room for the whole next day. She wouldn't talk to anyone. We all tried," he sighed heavily, and then shrugged. "But she just didn't want to talk. Artie tried to send her and Pete out to L.A. for an artifact when she finally left the room, but Myka just stared at him, and then she walked out. She took off," Steve said. "I'm still not really sure where she went; I guess I assumed she went home. She turned her phone off and left her Farnsworth on Artie's desk, with a note that said she'd be back soon, but she was gone for another day before she showed up again. She and Pete had a big heart to heart when she got back, I guess, but that was only the day before you got here."

Helena's eyes were glassed over, and she didn't know Steve Jinks well enough to be comfortable with him bearing witness to that if she could help it, so she turned away, and covered her mouth with trembling fingers.

She'd known that Myka had been very hurt, but she hadn't realized the extent. It was no wonder that Claudia had been furious with her return. She'd thought that she'd ruined Myka before, but now she was certain that she had done far worse.

"Listen," Jinks asserted, interrupting her thoughts, "Myka really, _really_ cares about you, and everyone around here knows it. And we know that you care about her just as much, so if Myka's forgiven you, obviously we have, too. I just thought it might help you figure things out if you knew why Artie is sending Myka out there with Pete instead of you. I think he's just wary of Myka spending too much time with you, in case…"

"In case I leave?" Helena inquired softly.

Steve shrugged guiltily. "Yeah, I guess. It was just… It was hard to watch her go through that," he settled, finally. "And I think Artie just wants to make sure that she won't break down again when she has to be away from you for a while. I'm pretty sure that's why Myka said she'd go."

Helena laughed, and despite that she'd faced away from him, she was sure that Steve could hear the tears in her voice. So she turned around, and said, "It's unsettling what that darling woman will go through solely to make a point."

"Yeah, pretty much," Steve grinned at her, nodding.

Sincerely, Helena reached out to touch his shoulder. "Thank you," she said earnestly.

"Sure," he said. "Just… let her know that you'll still be here when she gets back. And keep your phone on you, in case she tries to call."

"Yeah, because she might panic a little if you don't pick up," Helena heard, and turned to find her lover leaning against the doorframe.

"Myka," she breathed.

"Hey," Myka smiled softly.

"I'm just gonna let you two finish up in here," Steve said, wiping his hands on a dishtowel and excusing himself with more tact than Pete and Claudia combined, and Helena found she very much appreciated that.

"Myka, darling, why didn't you say something?" Helena whispered tearfully.

"What would you have expected me to say, Helena?" Myka asked gently, moving forward to stroke her face with care.

But Helena pulled her in swiftly and wrapped her in a tight embrace. "Anything, Myka," she replied into her ear. "You could have said anything."

"I know," Myka sighed back. "But I didn't want to," she said, pulling back and drifting her fingers down Helena's arms until she held a hand in each of hers. "Helena, you left to do something good for yourself. And I know that you feel badly about not considering my feelings, but it took me a long time to consider yours, too. You were unhappy. And what you needed then… It wasn't here," Myka shook her head.

"But the pain that you suffered at my absence, Myka – "

"Helena, don't," Myka instructed softly, hugging her hands tightly. "I was sad, and alone, and the only thing that I could think of to make it better was to be with you. So I leaped at the opportunity to see you when you called, and I was disappointed when I got there. But that _doesn't_ _mean_ that you did anything wrong. I just…" Myka looked down, and then back up with shining green eyes. "I just hate to be without you, and when we saw you in Wisconsin, you seemed so much farther from my reach than you'd ever been before. And you had a _family_ there, Helena," she breathed. "You can float around to whatever city you choose when you're alone, but when you have a family… That glues you somewhere. It gives you a home," she said softly. "It gives you somewhere that you have to go back to."

"Darling," Helena assured gently, "I never felt that there. I never felt home, there," she imparted honestly. "You have always been the place that I have to go back to, Myka. _You_."

"But I didn't know that, Helena," Myka reminded profoundly. "I guess I'd always thought of it that way, though, because never once, when you left the Warehouse, did I ever think to myself, 'She's not coming back.' There were times when I didn't know where you were, and there were times when I didn't know what had become of you, but I never thought that you'd just be gone. And when I saw you there with Nate and Adelaide… Helena, I thought it, then. I thought you'd found the normal life that you wanted," she said, a tear finally breaking from the pool in her eyes. "And I thought that you wouldn't be back."

"Myka – " Helena began, but couldn't quite find her words. She feverishly leaned forward to kiss her cheek once, and then twice, and a third time, before she squeezed Myka's hands hard within hers and swore, "Myka, I will _always_ come back to you."

Myka laughed, though another tear trekked down her face. "Yeah?"

"Oh, darling, yes," she promised. "Emphatically, truthfully, lovingly, _yes._"

"Good," Myka sniffed, and reached a hand up to draw a finger under her eye and divest of her tears. "That's good," she said, smiling, and propelling a puff of emotional air past her lips.

Helena embraced her in another hug, and stroked Myka's hair when her head fell against Helena's shoulder. When they separated, Helena cradled Myka's face in her hands and instructed, "You just be sure that you come back to me from Chicago, darling. Quickly. I've barely begun to explore this exquisite body of yours, and I would very much like to do so," she teased, sure that she did not want Myka to leave on such a sorrowful note.

Myka groaned. "I don't want to go," she mumbled.

"You do know that you're only being obstinate by allowing Artie to send you, yes?" Helena ribbed lightly.

"I know," Myka sighed, frustrated with herself. "But I think I do need to go with Pete," she said softly. "I need to adjust to not necessarily having the chance to see you every minute of the day."

"I understand, darling," Helena shushed. "Just don't do anything irresponsible. And for God's sake, Myka, do be careful. I won't have the woman I love in the morgue because she fell off of Willis Tower. That's just absurd."

Myka paled.

Helena raised a brow. "Myka, darling, I'm teasing," she informed.

"I know, I just… I have a thing about heights, okay?" Myka confessed.

"Oh, darling," Helena soothed, leaning forward to press a long, slow kiss against Myka's lips, and when she'd thoroughly invaded every cavern of Myka's mouth, she pulled away and rested her forehead against that of her would-be partner's. "You're being silly," she said gently.

"I know it's silly, Helena," Myka huffed. "I can't help it, alright? It's a phobia!"

"What I meant," Helena said, chuckling, "was that it's silly of you to set off to Chicago, when you neither want nor need to do so. Artie clearly thought Claudia capable of the task, if you'll recall."

"I said I'd go, and I will," Myka said inflexibly. "I don't have to be happy about it," she grumped.

"I find your intractability to be remarkably charming," Helena informed, smiling.

"Stop using fancy words and a pretty British accent to call me stubborn," Myka scowled playfully.

"I did say it was charming," Helena offered as comfort, grinning at the compliment.

"Just keep your phone nearby, okay?" Myka asked, sighing.

"I will, darling. I promise," Helena smiled. "Although, I'll be quite cross with you if you don't actually call me."

"I will," Myka said, chuckling. "I don't think I could go that long without talking to you, right now."

"Nor could I, my love," Helena shared. "And I have no desire to."

* * *

_Author's Note:_ A little bit of angst, a little bit of fluff, and a nice little tribute to my vacation in Chicago. I couldn't help myself. I exaggerated a little, and got a little wordy with the description, but they really _do_ talk about Willis Tower like it's a person. Anyway, please review!

P.S. If any of you wondered, the CTBUH is a real thing (I thought it sounded made up), and they are actually meeting in November to talk about the spire/antenna debate!

P.P.S. All the statistics came from Wikipedia, so I'm not totally sure about their accuracy, but I _have_ found Wikipedia to be more reliable than some people think.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: _This one took a bit longer to crank out than usual. Sorry, guys. I just couldn't get the ending conversation to feel right. I think I got it where I wanted it, but let me know what you think, as always. : )

* * *

"You ready, Mykes?" Pete asked, poking his head through the door. "Oh," he said, grinning as he noticed that the pair of them stood no more than an inch apart, Helena's forehead leaned against Myka's with her hands set firmly on the agent's hips. "I'll give you two a minute for some lovin'. Just, you know," he started, pointing a finger at them both with raised eyebrows, "keep it PG-13, guys. We don't have time for the R-rated stuff."

Helena rolled her eyes, but Myka smiled at him appreciatively and said, "Thanks, Pete. I'll be out in just a second."

Helena would have liked to spend more time with Myka before she had to leave. The intimacy that they now shared was new, and extraordinarily intoxicating in a way that Helena had never before experienced; she found that she was not at all keen on the notion of suffering several days without it.

"I believe this is going to be more difficult than I'd initially anticipated," she admitted softly.

Myka smiled at her, and in it, amongst pure adoration and affection, Helena could detect both anxiety and displeasure. "I'm going to miss you, too," she said quietly, reading into Helena's words the one thing that she abruptly found she could not say.

"Myka, I _will_ be here when you get back," she promised.

Her lover laughed quietly. "Helena, if I didn't already know that you'd be here when I got back, then I wouldn't be leaving."

Helena smiled, and, satisfied that Myka was convinced, she sighed softly against her mouth. "I suppose I should walk you out, then?" Helena asked, though it was clear by her lack of movement that she was reluctant to do so.

Myka apparently had other plans, which really didn't involve much movement at all. She cradled Helena's face with one, soft hand, and embraced the back of her neck with her opposite one, before leaning in to press a furious kiss against her mouth.

Helena was, admittedly, a bit startled. Myka's motions had been so gentle before their mouths had touched, but the moment that their lips had coupled together, Helena had been blitzed by overwhelming emotion. Love, fear, and a fraught longing stretched from Myka's mouth and into hers, and, so stunned was she by those sentiments, Helena had to take a moment to remember herself.

Her fingers clenched around Myka's hips as she conceded to the kiss, allowing Myka to conquer her lips with bruising force, and bowing into her lover's slender, overpowering figure. Their kiss was not elegant; it was raw and desperate, and burdened with the need for each of them to affirm the other's feelings.

But when Helena felt that those emotions had been exchanged thoroughly, she retracted, brushing Myka's nose with her own, touching her mouth to Myka's, not quite kissing, merely dragging across the agent's lips in a motion designed purely to tempt. "I have warned you about this nasty habit you've acquired for teasing me, love," she murmured amorously.

"I'm sorry," Myka sighed genuinely. "I just – " But the agent shorted herself and shrugged helplessly.

Comfortingly, Helena offered a gentle squeeze to her hips. "I know, darling. You're not alone in your feelings of discontent. However, I fear if we spend much longer in this position, I will grow rather adamant in my task of convincing you to stay, and my tactics might not be as ah – PG-13 as Pete would like."

With a flattering flush, which Helena had long ago discovered very much suited her, Myka nodded. "I guess I should go."

"Mm," Helena hummed, and leaned in for another kiss. "Come, darling. We'll walk together, hm?"

Myka nodded again and trailed behind her, grappling for her hand and squeezing it tightly. Helena comprehended, in that motion more than any other, how truly frightened Myka was to be without her, and it concurrently broke and melted her heart. Without a second thought to follow that one, Helena returned the hug of her hand with one of her own, and accompanied it with a deep look over her shoulder that spoke of her endless affection for this woman. Myka smiled shakily in reply, and they continued to move toward the front door.

Pete stood outside patiently, leaning against the car with his Farnsworth in hand. When he noticed their arrival, he eyed them carefully and extended a small, but genuinely sympathetic smile. Overgrown child though he may be, Helena knew that Pete was rather sensitive to changes in mood – Myka's in particular.

"I grabbed your stuff, Mykes," he told her. "So we're all set."

Myka nodded, but her unease had grown with each step that they had taken closer to the car, so Helena swiftly gathered her into her arms, embracing her tightly, and briefly stroked her hair as it began to tickle her neck.

"I'll call you," Myka vowed again.

"I have no doubt that you will," Helena said, pulling back to rest a kiss against Myka's temple. "Be safe, darling."

"Don't worry," Pete said, resting his hand against Helena's shoulder as the two separated. "I'll keep an eye on our girl here, and you can keep an eye on my cookie stash for me while I'm gone!"

Helena raised a brow. "I'm certain I have better things to do with my time than to secure your cookie reserve."

Myka laughed lightly. "Seriously, Pete, just take it with you. You know you're going to be mad that there are no sweets on the plane, anyway."

"No!" Pete declined stubbornly. "Mykes, I told you, the cookie stash is for _emergencies_."

"Pete," Myka sighed with exasperated affection, "your idea of an emergency is when you can't have the icing off of Claudia's cinnamon roll."

"Yeah, and then I have my cookies and everything's okay again," he said pointedly. "It's a system, okay? And I don't harass you about your Twizzler addiction, so, you know… back off my cookie stash!"

"Whatever," Myka huffed.

"Whatever, indeed," Helena chuckled softly as Pete moved to the opposite end of the car and hopped in, cranking up the vehicle and allowing soft music to drown out the sound of their parting words.

"I'll see you soon, my darling," Helena smiled, and opened the door to the car for her.

"Okay," Myka nodded, sliding in and glancing up at her through a window that she quickly opened as Helena closed the door behind her.

Helena leaned down, and feathered a kiss over her lips. "I love you, Myka," she murmured tenderly.

Myka beamed almost instantly, before she replied, "I love you, too."

"Mm, that seems to have done the trick," Helena smiled gently in return. "I have missed that smile in these more recent hours. Go now, darling. We'll speak soon."

Myka opened her palm to offer a gesture of goodbye, and as Helena tightened her light sweater around herself and watched the automobile pull away, she uncomfortably noted a strong similarity between this moment and another, not long ago, that had her hugging a tearful Myka farewell as she departed from Wisconsin.

But this day had been nothing like that one. In place of apologies and agony, there had been promises and love, and it took no time at all for Helena to confess that she much preferred the latter.

* * *

Helena spent much of her day distracting herself from her lover's absence. She'd showered, spent some time working on Pete and Claudia's gifts (although, Pete's was proving to be a bit more complicated than she'd anticipated), and she'd taken her lunch in her room, despite that her Victorian notions of propriety had left her feeling slightly guilty about doing so.

So when she leaned back against the bed that evening, she couldn't have stopped the soft, though slightly dismayed smile that flitted over her lips when a scent that was not her own, and yet was still so delightfully familiar, wafted toward her.

Myka Bering had been in her bed.

Though Helena had quite literally spent most of her time in this life pondering over her feelings for that woman, and she had spent the past week, at least, working up the nerve and the words to speak them aloud, she still found herself surprised by the developments of the last couple of days.

It had felt like longer. She and Myka had danced around this devastating tension for years, so the seduction in itself had been a long time coming. But, after all that she had done, she still found herself bemused by Myka's declarations of love and faith. No one – in this time, or any other – had offered her that sort of dedication. Myka was, truly, a rarity.

And Helena missed her dearly.

Scoffing at herself for her girlish behavior, Helena wrapped herself under the blankets and allowed herself the indulgence of being mildly comforted by the smell of Myka that lingered on her pillow as she forced her eyes to close.

And moments later, she scowled, with great irritation, when her Farnsworth began to buzz – in that purely obnoxious manner that it does – and she flicked it open, snapping out a, "What?" before she'd even taken a proper look at who was calling.

"Hello to you, too," Myka's voice returned.

Sighing, a bit with relief, and a bit more with remorse, Helena murmured, "Oh, Myka. I'm sorry, darling. I'm afraid I'm having a spot of trouble sleeping. It seems to have me a bit tense."

Helena leaned up to turn on the bedside lamp, and squinted as she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the light.

"Are you okay?" Myka asked, clearly concerned as her brow furrowed inward.

"Yes. I simply find my mood to be more agreeable when in your company," she admitted, smiling fondly.

"Yeah," Myka said guiltily. "Mine too. Poor Pete shoved the Farnsworth at me in the elevator and told me to call you and get some sleep. I think I've been grumpy with him."

"Myka," Helena laughed warmly, "you might owe our dear Agent Lattimer an apology. Your idea of grumpy can be quite lethal, darling – and, from experience, I do mean that quite literally."

"I hate apologizing to Pete," Myka bemoaned. "He's all sweet about it at first; then he gloats. A lot. And, by the way, _lethal_ is a really strong word."

"You shoved me against a wall with your hand to my throat," Helena deadpanned, raising a brow. "Though I will admit to more than a few improper thoughts at the time, it was quite evident that your temper was not to be trifled with. Lethal, I'm afraid, is quite suitable."

Myka rolled her eyes. "I didn't know anything about you, Helena. Only that you killed a man in front of me – "

"An evil man, who, for the record, intended you great harm," Helena interjected defensively.

"And then took off, and suddenly showed up in the middle of an investigation," Myka continued, smiling playfully as she breezed past Helena's interruption. "If my temper was in play – "

"If, indeed," Helena murmured dryly. "It most certainly was."

"Then it was well-deserved," Myka finished, pointedly. "Though, I will say, it might have been second to my curiosity."

"Oh?" Helena inquired, shifting onto her side and propping herself onto an elbow to more comfortably view her lover's face in the small window.

"Helena, I've admired your novels since I learned to read," Myka laughed softly. "I used to read them to my cousin before she went to sleep. Of course I was curious about you. It took a long time to reconcile one of my favorite authors with… well, with you."

"I suspect it would have been quite a shock," Helena conceded.

"It was," Myka confirmed. "I had a hard time acknowledging you as a threat, even after MacPherson. So I might have overcompensated a little when I put you against the wall."

"Dear Myka, you're more than welcome to put me against the wall any time you like," Helena murmured seductively.

Myka groaned. "Don't do that."

"What's that, darling?" Helena feigned innocence with a small grin.

"_That_," Myka huffed. "With the laying in bed and the little nightgown and the suggestive tone. Don't do _that_."

Helena had quite honestly forgotten about the nightgown that she'd tossed on before climbing into bed, but she found herself more than pleased that it was helping to work Myka into frustration. Mercifully, however, Helena decided against further teasing Myka for tonight. "I'm sorry, love. I'll do my best to refrain from any further tantalizations."

"Good," Myka stated, though she seemed nearly as frustrated by the lack of provocation as she had been by its existence.

Helena smiled her satisfaction privately, before she moved the conversation forward. "I'm not sure that I've ever heard you mention a cousin before now," she segued gracefully.

She heard the rustle of plastic as Myka looked down, and she raised a brow when Myka rose to face the screen again, a newly unpackaged Twizzler in her hand.

"Savannah," Myka nodded. "I guess I don't really talk about her a lot. I like to keep her separate from the Warehouse."

"You read to her, when she was young?" Helena asked gently, sensing that, though Myka didn't speak it aloud, she had very fond feelings for this particular relative.

"Younger," Myka shrugged, laughing. "I still do, when she can't sleep."

"And how old is she?"

"Twenty-four," Myka said, rolling her eyes. "You wouldn't know it, though."

"She behaves differently?" Helena pushed, enjoying the spark of light in Myka's eyes as she spoke.

"Savannah?" Myka laughed. "She's kind of all over the map. Sometimes she acts her age. Others…" Myka shrugged, and then grinned and shook her head. "Not so much. She's so smart, and intuitive; sometimes it's like she's eighty. And then she'll call in the middle of the night, and she's a little kid again."

"You care for her a great deal," Helena murmured softly.

"Yeah," Myka beamed, but then she frowned. "It must be really hard to not have family here," she offered, very empathetic and sweet.

Yet, Helena snorted. "My brother Charles was a conduit for my works, to be sure – but he was an arrogant man, with little sense for finance, and even littler sense for reason. I had a few other familial relationships, but none that were terribly binding."

"That's sad," Myka said quietly.

"You place a high premium on family," Helena denoted. "You speak of your parents often, and of your sister, and you evidently share a close bond with this cousin of yours. I, however, have always found family to be… tiring, I suppose. I had such ambitious notions, Myka. And I was thought to be foolish for them, particularly by my family. My mother was an overly religious Protestant woman," she rolled her eyes. "And my father… He was very philosophical. He believed in the work of reason and logic."

"You like reason and logic," Myka tilted her head to the left, confused, as a cherry red Twizzler dipped into the side of her mouth.

"Yes," Helena said blankly.

"But you didn't like him?" Myka tried to understand. "I don't get it. What was the problem?"

"Presently, my love," Helena found herself whispering darkly, "my sole problem rests with the idea of that candy rope tasting more of you than I am currently able."

"Firstly," Myka said, flushing deeply, and gesturing toward the Farnsworth with the offending twist of sugar, "it's not tasting me, I'm tasting it. Secondly, _behave_," she scowled.

With a pained sigh, Helena assented, "As you wish."

"So," Myka pushed onward, calming herself until only a faint touch of pink rested in her cheeks. "Your dad?"

"Yes," Helena nodded. "Very intelligent man, my father. I acquired much of my rather precocious mind from him."

"So humble," Myka said, though affection laced through her words.

"It isn't arrogance, Myka," Helena smiled caringly. "Even in this time, I find my intelligence to often be more of a hindrance than a help."

"I can't believe that," Myka shook her head.

"As I said: I always had such ambitious notions, darling. They weren't always well received."

"But you said your dad liked reason," Myka reminded.

"Yes," Helena nodded. "But as an idea. He very rarely acted upon much of anything, really, and he was quite disappointed when I began to voice my desires to do so. He was rather blunt when he informed me that a woman could have no significant impact in the society that we lived in, despite that – intellectually speaking – we demonstrated very few differences to men. He acknowledged that, logically, there was no true reason for why things ought to have been that way, but he was quite clear in his assertion that the age in which we lived would not tolerate it, and he quickly dashed the idea before the conversation developed any further."

"He was clearly mistaken," Myka shrugged easily.

Helena raised a brow, intrigued once more by Myka's obvious confidence in her achievements. "I've done as many awful things in my life as I have decent, Myka," she reminded softly.

Myka shook her head. "That isn't true."

"I know that you make it a custom to see the best in me, love – "

"No," Myka cut her off. "With your writings alone, you have no idea how much good you've done. There's a reason that your works are so renowned, Helena. They inspire people. And you… You spent a lot of your earlier life doing exactly what we do now; saving the _world_. You might have tried to go about saving it a little differently than most," she admitted, shrugging again while she rubbed a fist against her eye, "but you save the world. And that's a good thing."

"If you insist, darling," Helena allowed, acknowledging with the motion of Myka's hand that she truly must be worn.

"I do," Myka said firmly.

Helena chuckled, and allowed the fond smile to linger on her mouth as she spoke. "You're exhausted."

"I know," Myka sighed. "I just… missed you."

"And I, you," Helena murmured.

"But I should let you go," Myka said softly. "Pete and I have to be up early."

"I would imagine so," Helena nodded. "Sleep, now, darling. We'll speak soon."

"Okay," Myka yawned, reaching to tuck her Twizzlers into the drawer of her nightstand, before she snuggled into her bed. "Helena?"

"Mm?" Helena hummed, smiling adoringly. Myka was simply so endearing.

"I love you," Myka mumbled, clearly tipping toward sleep more rapidly than she had planned.

"I love you, darling Myka," Helena sighed warmly.

"G'night," Myka murmured drowsily, her eyes closing in a blink that lasted several moments too long.

"Goodnight, my love."


	15. Chapter 15

The next afternoon found Helena taking inventory of the artifacts that were due for processing. She was rather fond of the monotonous task, at the moment, as she found herself to be quite irritable after waking to an empty bed, and had no desire to inflict that tetchiness upon her colleagues.

Foolish as she knew it was, as she had only had Myka beside her for two consecutive nights, Helena couldn't seem to help herself. The previous morning, she had woken to gentle kisses against her back, placed with so much care and concern that, when reflecting upon the memory, Helena found her eyes damp. And this morning, she had woken alone, with the dissatisfying knowledge that Myka was presently more than five hundred miles away.

Helena sighed her discontent, and signed off on Ray Charles' sunglasses – an artifact that had been rather daringly obtained by Pete and Claudia two weeks prior – and, with the completion of her inventory list, she made her way back through the Warehouse to Artie's office.

The flurry of activity that greeted her, however, did not bode well.

"HG!" Claudia exclaimed nervously, dropping the file that she had been rifling through before she'd glanced up at her. "You're here! Artie, look! HG is here!"

Helena frowned, but bent to help Claudia retrieve the papers that had been dropped in the midst of her scuffle. "Is there a reason why I oughtn't be?" She asked, her interest immediately piqued.

"Guys," Helena heard Myka's tremulous voice call out from somewhere near Artie's desk.

"Myka?" Helena inquired swiftly, standing to find the Farnsworth that Artie snatched away from her as soon as she made to reach for it.

Myka offered an unsteady smile as Helena bent to lean over Artie's shoulder, which the difficult man just hardly tolerated.

"Hey," Myka said, guilt and fear melting together in one turbulent noise as she watched Myka's face shake due to a shift of her Farnsworth on the other end. "Oh God," she hissed, shutting her eyes tightly. "Guys, anything you have would be really great right now!"

"We're trying, Mykes! Just hang on, okay?" Claudia pleaded.

"Myka, darling, what's happening?"

Myka laughed, though it was clearly cynical and more than a little hysterical. "You remember that talk we had about falling off the tower? I must've been seriously jinxed or – or something, because that's looking like a very real possibility, and – Oh, God. _Seriously_?" She yelled, looking up the side of what Helena could now identify as Willis Tower. "Pete, come _on_! I'm already half way off the building! Let the cookie thing _go_ already! Okay?"

"He's not in his right mind, Myka," Artie said quickly, jamming a sequence of numbers into his computer. "You can't rationalize with him right now; his brainwaves have been seriously impacted by the frequencies of the antennas."

Helena's heart hammered in her chest, and she found her breaths to be sparser in number than she really needed. "Myka," she exhaled rapidly, covering her mouth with her fingers. "Myka, use the Tesla!"

"I don't _have_ the Tesla!" Myka expressed desperately. "Pete does," she whimpered. "And he's too busy shouting about those _fucking_ cookies to fire it, but his rant sounds like it's dying down, so, Artie, any time now would be really, really okay with me!"

"Got it!" Claudia exclaimed triumphantly, shoving Artie out of the way to access the computer, and her nimble fingers quickly drew up a series of wavelengths that Helena could discern very little from.

Artie reclaimed his previous position, Claudia hurriedly shrinking out of his way.

"Artie's almost there, Mykes!" Claudia informed. "Just hang on a couple more seconds, okay?"

But Helena saw the blaring flash of light that she immediately recognized as the bolt of the Tesla being fired, and she raked in a gasp of breath, as she shouted, "Myka!"

The woman in the window of the Farnsworth had dropped no more than a couple centimeters as she swung out of the way to avoid the shot, but Helena knew that her grasp on the rooftop had to be feeble, at best, after so long a period fighting to keep her hold, and she couldn't seem to slow her heart down long enough to respond with anything but a terrified stare into the screen.

And then a raucous noise that sounded much like bagpipes roared from Artie's computer, and though it startled Helena, it seemed that Myka had very much been prepared for it, and she immediately called, "Pete!"

"Myka?" They heard, as Myka's gaze shifted urgently away from them. "Mykes!" Pete cried, and moments later, Myka was evidently being pulled upward by her partner. Helena held her breath, hoping desperately that Pete had the strength to lift her without allowing her to slip. "Mykes, are you okay?" He asked, once the Farnsworth shuffled around a bit more.

"No!" Myka's vehemence was evident, even with the Farnsworth trembling at her side. "No, Pete, I am _not okay!_ Give me that," she snarled, and as she raised the Farnsworth closer to her face, they watched her seize the Tesla from Pete's hand.

"Mykes, what happened? How did you get down there?" Pete asked, obviously seeping with confusion and serious concern.

"You _pushed me_ down there, Pete! Over cookies! COOKIES!" Myka screamed.

"What?" Pete asked, shaking his head quickly. "No I didn't!" He denied. "We just got out here five seconds ago. And, jeez, was that security goon suspicious about those fake badges," he said, scratching his head. "I was worried he wouldn't let us on the roof."

Myka stared at him incredulously. "Pete! You shoved me off the side of the freakin' Sears Tower, because I teased you about your _cookie_ _stash_! I'm not really very concerned about the security guard right now, okay?" She snapped viciously.

"Hey!" Artie shouted, causing both of their gazes to break toward the Farnsworth again. "Goo the damn things and get out of there! You've already drawn enough attention to yourselves."

Helena could take no more of his condescension toward Myka, and simply snatched the device from Artie's desk, pleading frantically into the device, "Myka, darling, come home. Come home now, alright?"

With a glance that spoke of all the terror behind her fury, Myka nodded.

"Helena, I – " Myka began, but shook her head as a pool of tears welled in her eyes.

"Sh, my love. I know. I know," she murmured, her heart still thudding uncomfortably to find a proper pace. "Just finish up there and come home to me, darling."

Myka nodded again, and though the words 'I love you' didn't escape her lips, Helena could clearly read it in her eyes, and she smiled shakily in return before Myka clipped her Farnsworth shut.

"You," she growled, her voice nothing but a low rumble that abraded her throat as she rounded on Artie with a predatory glare that, she could note from her periphery, had even Claudia slinking back with fear, "should never have sent her up there without verifying that neither of them would be affected by that frequency!"

"I had no way to test that! And what was the alternative?" Artie snapped. "Sending Claudia? Either way, someone was going to end up on the side of that building!"

"Myka," Helena began dangerously, "is afraid of heights, you cantankerous, old _fool_. How could you have expected her to be proficient up there at all, particularly when confronted with a situation such as that one?" She finished on a shout.

"I expected her to do her job," Artie barked, "which is significantly less than what you've expected of her in recent months!"

Helena balked at the assertion, and opened her mouth to spit back a reply that was more than a little unkind, but Claudia beat her to it.

"Hey, Pooh Bear," Claudia called his attention abruptly. "That's enough. Myka forgave her, and anything outside of that is none of your business."

Helena clamped her mouth shut, despite her deeply seated propensity for having the last word. She blew out a long sigh, and leaned forward against Artie's desk, her arms feeling as though nothing but pudding rested within them.

"I apologize," she gritted her teeth. "My concern for Myka seems to have gotten away with me."

Artie offered a gruff grunt, but said nothing.

"In the future, however," she said, more quietly, and also more compliantly, "I do hope that you'll be more sympathetic to our individual reservations, if and when such things can be taken into account."

"Sympathetic to – " Artie began to splutter, but after a swift and poisonous glare from Claudia, he huffed and offered a short, "Fine. I'll do what I can."

Helena turned to face him and nodded. "Thank you."

A moment of silence followed, during which Helena fought to regain her sanity, while Artie grouchily tapped at his keyboard, and Claudia shuffled around uncomfortably in the background.

"Hey, HG," Claudia said, offering a very small grin. "Want some company? Just until Myka gets back?" She shrugged a little. "Steve's in town for some Warehouse-y goodness."

"I could do with the company," Helena admitted.

Left alone, she was certain that she would simmer in her own frustrations and deep interests for Myka's wellbeing, and that couldn't end in anything but greater anticipation for Myka's arrival.

"Come on," Claudia said, indicating with an odd motion of her shoulder that Helena should follow her. "I have the new inventory lists downstairs."

Helena trailed behind her, and offered Artie another apologetic glance, to which he nodded at appreciatively.

"So," Claudia began, fumbling with the stack of papers she lifted from the table at the bottom of the steps, "that was kinda intense, right?"

Helena couldn't help the derisive snort that emerged from her throat. "Intense is a rather mild word for that particular experience."

"Yeah," Claudia nodded, brushing back a loose piece of hair thoughtfully. "But you were super great at calming Myka down."

Helena smiled briefly. "Myka isn't very difficult to calm."

"She can be," Claudia said, shrugging. "When you're not here, she's actually _really_ hard to calm."

"Then I'm pleased that my presence offers something beneficial for her," Helena replied, though she internally warmed at the comment. It flattered her, more than a little, to know that she had such a profound effect on Myka.

"You do more good for her than bad, you know," Claudia informed, chancing a very small glance up at her before she looked away, clearly not as talented with emotional exchanges as she'd like to be.

Helena smiled affectionately.

"No. Dude, listen, I'm being serious," Claudia insisted. "Artie's grouchy 'cause Myka went a little cuckoo after Wisconsin, but he doesn't mean it. You being around makes Myka all gushy and happy. So don't go getting any ideas about leaving just because Artie huffed and puffed and tried to blow your house down."

Helena raised a brow. "I fail to understand your reference, I'm afraid," she said fondly, and she earned a broad grin from Claudia in return, which inevitably elicited a smile from Helena. "However, I can assure you that leaving the Warehouse has not once occurred to me. I have no desire to be apart from Myka for a day," she said pointedly. "What makes you think that leaving her altogether would appeal to my interests?"

"Good," Claudia nodded. "Well, now that that's over with… We're off to 42-B!"

"Lead the way, then," Helena requested, and yet again raised her brow when Claudia hooked their arms together and began skipping down the hall.

"Aw, c'mon, HG!" She pleaded. "It's fun! And also, you get there faster."

Helena had no inclination to skip, however she made no such comment to Claudia and merely allowed her to surge ahead as she followed behind her riotous footfalls. And as Helena observed the vastness that surrounded her, she acknowledged that, indeed, the Warehouse was not the safest place to fall so dangerously in love.

But that did not stop her from eagerly awaiting Myka's arrival.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Being terrified of heights myself, and having seen Willis Tower just last week, typing this chapter had my heart racing a little, haha. Reviews, please! Even if you hate the chapter, they really do help me to guide my writings!


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note:_ Yeah... If anybody wondered, this wasn't planned. Feed my muse, loves. I require reviews. ; )

P.S. I hit my 100th review tonight! Thanks so much for all of the support, guys. Really. It keeps my fingers typing.

* * *

Helena had run her a bath.

Myka had called on the Farnsworth not long ago and had informed her that she and Pete had just landed at the airport, so they would be returning shortly. And, though Helena was obviously very much looking forward to her return, she knew that Myka was more than likely to be a bit out of sorts, even with the time to relax on the plane.

So Helena had run her a bath, because she knew that Myka preferred to soak in them after particularly demanding cases, when the occasion permitted.

After dropping a fair amount of bubble solution into the water, she smiled satisfactorily and moved to her room to set the bottle of wine to chill in an ice bucket that she had taken from the kitchen. Helena had asked Claudia to have Steve retrieve it before he returned from Univille, and she distinctly recalled rolling her eyes at the elated squeak that had arisen from Claudia's throat in reply.

As she waited, however, Helena found herself idle. She paced to the open window and folded her arms inward, contemplatively eyeing the barren South Dakotan plains until she could spot Myka and Pete's vehicle. When it slowed into park, Helena watched as Pete hurried around the car to give chase to a nearly sprinting Myka.

Helena's heart fluttered at the sight of her, and she only just resisted the overwhelming urge to meet her at the door.

"Mykes, you _can't_ still be mad at me!" She heard Pete plead. "It wasn't my fault! And I wasn't _that _upset about the cookies, it just made me think I was, so – "

"Pete!" Myka snapped as she whirled around to face him, and then she tiredly rubbed her fingers against her forehead. Helena's head tilted to the side with concern. "I'm not mad at you. I just… I got scared, okay?" She huffed, clearly frustrated with the situation, and with herself.

Pete's next words were quieter, and she saw Myka nod and duck her head in reply. Helena recognized the motion as a struggle with tears, and was disquieted by Myka's emotion. Pete said something else that Helena couldn't clearly make out, and, with arms that hugged her own slender frame, Myka allowed Pete to pull her into a tight embrace. When he pulled away, Myka turned, and, with a minute scoff, Helena observed Pete as he reached forward and tapped her lover's rear with his palm, with a loud and flamboyant, "Get some, girl!" as he snapped his fingers and formed an arc with his hand.

Myka seemed to laugh, reluctantly, as she made her path through the entryway of the inn, and it wasn't a minute longer before Helena heard a tentative knock against her door.

"Helena?"

"You needn't knock, darling," she replied, budging toward the frame of wood to admit the agent. She smiled when she set eyes on Myka, more than powerless against that particular shift in facial muscles, and she moved her hands to encase Myka's cheeks. "You're more than welcome in my bedroom, any time you choose."

Myka smiled fondly in return, and, despite that it was small, Helena found herself pleased.

"Come," Helena murmured softly. "You've had quite a long day, haven't you, love?" She continued, taking Myka by the hand and leading her into the room.

Myka laughed derisively. "Understatement of the year," she returned quietly, but stopped Helena from moving as soon as she had crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her.

Helena waited, facing Myka, now, as the woman scoured her face meticulously. And then Myka seemed to have lost something in her, because she merely took two small steps forward and circled her arms around Helena's waist, bowing her head into Helena's neck with a heavy sigh of exhaustion.

"Sh, my love," Helena hushed, one arm reaching around Myka's back and stretching upward until Helena's hand could hold her shoulder, and the other instinctively moved to comb through Myka's lovely curls. "You're safe now."

She felt Myka nod, and she was certain that some amount of wetness coated her shoulder, but Helena simply held her tightly and welcomed the tears, with the hope that they would alleviate some of Myka's frustration.

Myka disentangled herself moments later, with a quick spurt of hot breath into Helena's neck. But before she could reach to scrub at her tears, Helena's thumbs stole them away with a tender motion that had Myka's eyes beginning to well all over again as she smiled her appreciation and fondness.

Helena leant forward and dipped her lips under Myka's, and though there was heat behind every kiss that they shared, this one was relatively mild, and solely offered to comfort. And Myka sighed into it gratefully, her fingers fisting into the sides of the blouse that Helena wore as she used the fabric to pull Helena flush against her.

"I missed you," Myka breathed against her mouth, grazing her lips against Helena's in another, briefer kiss.

"Dear Myka," Helena whispered, sweeping her thumb across Myka's cheek as another drop of mist parted from the pool in her eyes, "I missed you, as well. It would seem that I'm not fond of any greater distance between us than this," she admitted affectionately.

"This is a good distance for us," Myka decided with a warm laugh.

"I'm inclined to agree," Helena said, allowing one of her hands to cradle Myka's neck, and she gently soothed her nails down the slender column. "However, I've prepared a bath for you, darling, so just the smallest bit of separation might be necessary."

"You ran me a bath?" Myka asked.

"Mm," Helena hummed. "Yes. As I recall, you do enjoy your leisurely immersions."

"I do," Myka laughed again, nodding. But then her smile softened, and she loosened her hold on Helena's blouse so that she could tighten her fingers over Helena's hips. "Thank you," she said sincerely.

"You might like to step in before the water loses its heat," Helena advised, nodding her head in the direction of the bathroom. "I'll pour the wine, shall I?"

"Wine?" Myka asked, a playful tilt of her hips accompanying her inquiry. "What did I do to deserve all this pampering?"

"Darling woman, you nearly fell to your death today," Helena said softly, and when she found Myka's eyes, she was sure that horror rested in her own. "I was rather concerned."

_Terrified. Alarmed. Panicked. _

Helena had been all of those things, but 'concern' had been the one to emerge from her chest, and she found herself pleased with the weaker term. Myka didn't need to know how truly afraid she had been.

"Yeah," Myka nodded guiltily. "I was kind of picking up on that when you stole Artie's Farnsworth."

Helena scoffed. "Your safety was paramount to Artie's discontent."

"I was already safe by then," Myka pointed out, smiling knowingly.

"Then I allowed myself the indulgence of a relatively private moment with you, in the wake of my own fear," Helena murmured gently, tightening her hold on Myka's neck as her eyes fell to a swift close. "Myka, I simply couldn't stomach the notion – " She shorted herself as emotion overwhelmed her, despite that she felt positively silly for being incapable of finishing a sentence.

Myka leant inward to pin a long kiss against Helena's forehead. "Pour the wine," Myka suggested warmly. "And come meet me in the bath, okay?"

"I thought perhaps you'd like a moment alone," Helena protested.

"I'd like several moments with you, instead," Myka informed, extracting herself from Helena's hold. The agent moved toward the bath, lifting her t-shirt above her head and tossing it unceremoniously to the floor. Myka then peered back over her shoulder with a look that simply thrived on seduction, and promptly had Helena's knees threatening to buckle. "Don't take too long," Myka added, biting her lip. Then she attempted to cover her desire with a half-smile that did nothing to eradicate the sinful thoughts that abruptly obscured all reasonable thought from Helena's mind.

"Righty-ho, then," Helena breathed to herself, once the bathroom door had eased shut behind her. There was a crack left in it for when Helena would join her, and Helena had no intentions of keeping Myka at bay.

She poured two full glasses of wine, and drove herself through the opening in the door, wordlessly extending the beverage to her lover. She took a small sip of her own as she leaned back against the counter.

"Aren't you getting in?" Myka asked, bemused.

"In a moment, darling," she said softly. "The last time we found ourselves in this circumstance, it was all that I could do not to simply gawk down upon you, as I stumbled over my affections," she continued. "I'm now in a very different position, my love," she said, and she was sure that there was more than a touch of husk to her words, as she eyed the rise of Myka's breasts peeking just above a fat layer of bubbles. "And I do intend to take advantage."

"From out there?" Myka raised her brow expectantly.

Helena laughed airily. "From out here, Myka," she replied, setting her glass down and lifting her fingers to touch the top button of her blouse before she rendered it undone, "my view is, indeed, quite advantageous."

Myka blushed endearingly, and Helena fingered another button loose. She didn't miss the quick flit of Myka's eyes downward, and she offered a lazy, heated smile in return before she unclasped a third button.

Helena continued down, luxuriating in the noise of Myka's swelling arousal as her breaths shortened and picked up pace, and the other woman took a large drink from her glass to calm herself. When all of the buttons had been relieved of their duties, Helena shrugged the garment from her shoulders, and the look that Myka gave her as the blouse fell away did very little to conceal her need.

Helena didn't put on a show for the removal of her dress pants – although, one might think that she had, given the redness in Myka's cheeks when they finally slinked down her legs. Instead of moving for her bra and panties, however, Helena turned away from her lover to face the counter, where she picked up a book of matches to light two strategically placed candles around the sink. Then she moved toward the bath and bent over her lover's shoulder.

Her voice, as she spoke, was little more than a low, sultry purr that breathed hot against Myka's ear. "Excuse me, darling," she murmured, and Helena reached to the far side of the tub to light yet another candle, keeping her eyes honed on the flame of the match as Myka turned her head just slightly to the right. If she chose to, it would have been a mere inch from her lips to Helena's, but Myka appeared to be relishing in the performance that Helena was putting on for her, and she remained still, aside from the tilt of her face, and the soft pant of her breath.

After she replaced the candle to the corner it had come from, she scraped a quick, heated kiss against Myka's shoulder, and then withdrew, moving toward the foot of the bath to lean over and reach for one, final candle. The picture that she offered to Myka, however – bearing little more than scraps of black lace as lingerie, and bent over with her backend on such obvious display – had the agent's eyes darkening into a cloud of murky green.

"Are you finished?" Myka asked unevenly.

"I've yet to start, love," Helena whispered, her lips curving into a tempting smile as she bent one arm back to unclasp her bra, allowing it to slide down her arms. As it dropped to the floor, Helena hooked two fingers on either side of her panties and shimmied them down until they rested at her ankles. She stepped one foot loose of the material, and lightly kicked it away with the other.

She wallowed in Myka's rapt attention, noting her heavy gaze as she set her glass to rest at the edge of the tub, watching as Helena climbed the one step to the luxuriously sized bath, and submerged herself in the still-steaming water.

Myka shifted forward, then, immobilizing Helena as she confined her back to the foot of the tub, framing an arm around either side of her face. But Helena merely smiled up at her with a heady blend of lust and high regard, as Myka fought against every emotion that she had willed away over the past two days. It took Helena little time to acquiesce that Myka didn't need her touch, in spite of her palpable arousal; tonight, Myka needed to touch her. And Helena was powerless to Myka's needs.

"I'm yours for the taking, darling," she cooed seductively, sensing Myka's losing battle against her restraint, and seeking to weaken it further. "Do with me what you will."

And Myka's lips descended upon hers with fury, taking from Helena whatever she could unearth, and searing her tongue through Helena's mouth for more when what she found was not enough to satisfy her.

Helena drew in a sharp pant when Myka's teeth scored into her lip, but Myka's newfound passion took no notice. Her mouth closed over the lobe of Helena's ear, her tongue stretching out to flick against it recklessly, before she moved lower to tow a healthy expanse of Helena's neck between her teeth and suck hard against it.

Unable to constrain the noise, Helena moaned and arched her head against the back of the bath, exposing the full length of her neckline to Myka's greedy lips. And Myka wasted no time in taking advantage. Her mouth moved hot over Helena's flesh, and Helena nearly sobbed when she felt one of Myka's hands shift to her hips, sweeping up dangerously and palming her breast.

But Myka's hand didn't stay there. It roamed swiftly over Helena's figure as though Myka simply couldn't quench her need for the sensation, her fingers trailing hastily down Helena's toned stomach and her nails scraping over her thigh before her hand made its way back up again, travelling through the valley of her breasts and over her heart before it came to rest at Helena's throat, her thumb soothing one side of the slender column and her fingers lightly hugging the other.

And Myka's mouth found hers again, just as hot and uncompromising as before, and the possessive hold over her neck had Helena mewling her desperation in a hum of desire that vibrated against Myka's tongue.

The erotic sound provoked her lover. Helena abruptly felt Myka's full form fall against her with the removal of her opposite hand, which rapidly found a fleeting home in the curve of Helena's hip. But it didn't linger for more than a moment, because next Helena knew, Myka's fingers frayed over her aching clit, and she was abruptly suffocated by Myka's mouth as it swallowed the loud cry that endeavored to erupt.

Helena writhed under Myka's touch, and each eager shift of her hips saw Myka's fingers pick up speed. Helena drew her mouth away and her lips touched Myka's jaw as she gasped for air that had urgently been depleted from her lungs, but Myka scarcely gave her the opportunity and plunged two demanding fingers directly into Helena's soaking core.

Myka's name ripped from her throat in a hoarse cry, followed by a rasped moan of, "Fuck," as Myka's hand continued to thrust into her with little regard for rhythm, purely driven by an unseen wrath of emotion that had Helena thrashing beneath. And when Myka's teeth clamped roughly over the juncture of her neck and shoulder, Helena stilled for one, tantalizingly brief moment, her hips frozen as they surged against Myka's hand, before a gratified sob passed through her parted, swollen lips and she plummeted against the edge of the tub, trembling as Myka's motions calmed, but didn't cease, and her lover tenderly swept kisses filled of love across her forehead.

"Myka," Helena husked, breathless and drinking the air through tired lungs. "I seem to have made the rather bold presumption that I was to be your first female lover. It seems I was woefully mistaken."

"College," Myka offered, her voice nothing but a whisper as she cleared sweat-dampened hair from Helena's brow, demonstratively tucking it behind her ear with implausible care.

"Your education gave way to a delightfully gifted student," Helena murmured as her heart hammered hard in her chest, refusing to discover a calmer pattern.

Myka hummed softly as she withdrew her hand from Helena's heat, and Helena found herself groaning at the loss before both of Myka's hands sifted through her hair and pulled her in for a deep, soothing kiss. Helena sighed into her mouth, surrendering pliantly beneath Myka's tender affections.

When she drew away, Helena watched her reach for the shampoo, and pour it into her hands. She moved to the opposite end of the tub and, with a small tilt of her head, she motioned for Helena to join her. Helena waded over, and obligingly turned around when Myka's free hand touched her shoulder and urged it sideways with gentle pressure.

She moaned when Myka's fingers began to massage the product into her hair.

"Was I too rough with you?" Myka ventured hesitantly.

Helena laughed quietly. "Mm, darling, your dominance in this particular sexual encounter was incontestable," she acknowledged. "But no. You were exceptional, Myka. And your aggression was notably well-received."

Myka's hands urged her downward, so Helena slinked lower into the water until Myka could wash the soap from her hair, and when she was finished, she tugged Helena up again until her back was flush against Myka's breasts. Myka bent so that her chin rested on Helena's shoulder, and Helena leaned sideways until her head rested against her lover's.

They remained there in silence, Myka's fingers decorating Helena's stomach with nonsensical designs, and Helena resting her arms against the ones that encircled her waist. And then Helena quietly inquired, "Do you feel better, darling?"

"Yes," Myka confessed on a sigh. "Helena," she rasped, her lips tripping over Helena's ear as she spoke, "you're really the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Watching you – " Myka began, then shook her head, and Helena could feel the flush of her skin against her neck. "You're incredible."

"Not half so much as you, darling," Helena returned, her tone soft but playful as she recalled a similar exchange from two nights before. "Your passion, Myka… it's exquisite, and you oughtn't be ashamed of it," she whispered, pivoting to face her paramour. She reached her hand up to caress Myka's face, the only sound in the room that of the water dripping from her fingers. "I've never felt so cherished," she admitted, slanting her lips across Myka's in a stroke so light, it hardly qualified as a kiss. "Nor so satisfied."

Myka smiled lovingly, and leant into Helena's touch. "You are cherished, Helena," she confirmed gently. "And so loved," she added, taking Helena's hand in hers and pressing a tender kiss against her palm.

"As are you, darling," Helena said meaningfully, nuzzling Myka's nose affectionately.

And when they stepped from the lukewarm water some twenty minutes later, Helena having washed Myka's hair and each having taken a turn to languorously brush a loofa over the other's sensitive flesh, they climbed into bed, their half-empty wine glasses forgotten.

Helena folded her emotionally spent lover into her arms, and Myka snuggled appreciatively into her chest. Helena touched her lips to the crown of Myka's head, before she warmly encouraged, "Sleep now, darling. You're safe here."

"I know," Myka breathed drowsily, draping a heavy arm over Helena's stomach and hugging her tightly against her. She burrowed deeper over Helena's heart, and Helena delicately scraped her nails over Myka's scalp, earning a soft hum of gratitude in reply.

Soft sighs of sleep met Helena's ears short moments later before she allowed herself to doze off, satiated and content, with Myka tucked securely in her hold.


	17. Chapter 17

Helena awoke with the sunrise, comprehending quickly that she'd forgotten to shut the window and lower the drapes the evening before. A part of her wished to rectify that error immediately, but a larger part of her was tangled between Myka's limbs, their legs hooked together in a manner that hardly seemed feasible, and Helena found that she couldn't move, even if she'd wanted to.

Additionally, the bright morning sun cast a flattering light over the side of Myka's face, and Helena was thereafter rendered helpless against the situation. So she closed her eyes and tried to block out the glare, but a groan from beneath her had Helena raising her brow instead.

"I _hate_ the sun," Myka mourned, nestling her face deeper into Helena's chest.

"But it does bring such great appeal to these exotic curls of yours," Helena comforted hoarsely as she reached to finger a tendril of Myka's sunlit hair, her throat, apparently, still sore from her exclamations of satisfaction the previous night.

"Don't care," Myka mumbled, grappling with closed eyes for a pillow and throwing it over her head once found, consequently smacking Helena's chest with it, and her brow inched further upward.

"You don't care for morning, do you, darling?" She inquired, more than a touch of affectionate sarcasm coating her words.

"Hate mornings," Myka's muffled voice answered. "Death to mornings."

Helena laughed softly, and asked, "Would you like me to close the curtains?"

"No," Myka replied, tightening her hold on Helena's waist the moment that Helena began to shift. "Don't move. Stay."

"Then how shall I appease you, darling?" Helena asked, amused.

Myka's hand reached for the edge of the blanket, and swiftly tugged it over both of their heads. "There," she declared, placated.

Beyond besotted, Helena laughed her delight. "Myka, my love, can you even breathe under here?"

"Don't need to breathe," Myka huffed irrationally. "I'm sleeping now. Stay," she demanded again, obviously anticipating some sort of movement from Helena.

But Helena couldn't have left; not while being made so aware of Myka's desire for her to stay, and certainly not when she was being so captivatingly endearing. So as Myka drifted back to sleep, Helena found herself lying motionless beneath the blanket, contemplating how she'd wandered so steeply in love with this woman that she was willing to spend two immobile hours staring blankly into darkness underneath a set of bedclothes that she, at least, thought to be rather stifling.

When Myka awoke again, it was to the distinctive ring of her cell phone, and Helena chuckled as her lover groaned, "Seriously?" and threw the blanket from her head with a vengeance.

Her phone was in the pocket of her jeans, which had been deserted in the bathroom the night before, and Helena watched Myka attentively as she crossed the room, in all of her spectacularly nude glory, to snatch the cell phone from her pants. She jammed her thumb against the 'end' button, before climbing back into bed and snuggling into the covers, both hands firmly holding the blanket just beneath her chin.

"Hate mornings," Myka sighed again.

"You did manage a few more hours of sleep, darling," Helena consoled, straining Myka's hair through her fingers and earning a mewl of contentment for the motion.

"I want the whole day here," Myka murmured softly.

"As do I, darling," Helena agreed. "But, much as I loathe to say it, we do have to get to the Warehouse at some point."

"I know," Myka lamented. "But it's so warm and cuddly here. And it's cold and lonely out there," she pouted.

"You, my love, have been warm and cuddly all morning, if a bit ill-tempered," Helena smiled down at her fondly.

Helena watched the blankets shift as, she presumed, Myka shrugged her shoulders.

"I don't recall you being quite so cross upon awakening on Sunday," Helena observed.

"On Sunday," Myka began with a puff, "I was worried that I'd hurt you. I guess my grumpiness was a little outmatched."

Helena hummed her understanding, and hugged Myka closer against her, lowering her head to place a soft kiss against her lover's hair. "And what could outmatch your grumpiness this morning, darling?" She murmured suggestively into Myka's ear.

"I just want to lay here a little longer with you," Myka replied earnestly, glancing up at Helena with slight hesitation. "Is that okay?"

"Darling Myka," Helena replied softly, "why wouldn't it be?"

"I just wasn't sure if that's something we do," Myka said slowly. But when Helena lifted her brow curiously, Myka expanded, "I mean, obviously it's something that we _do_, but I guess I wasn't sure if our cuddling was restricted to times of overwhelming emotion. Or post-sex cuddling – which is fine! I just wasn't sure…" Myka was beginning to ramble in her nervousness, and Helena found it enchanting.

"Myka," she chided gently, "I'm rather fond of your cuddling, and I place absolutely no restrictions upon it. You are welcome to do so any time you wish. I'm afraid I'm a rather sexual creature," Helena laughed lightly, "so my first inclinations tend to often lean in that direction; however, that does not mean that I do not derive pleasure from your company alone, and it certainly doesn't mean that I don't enjoy a healthy snuggle now and again. Even without the sex and ah – overwhelming emotion," she finished teasingly, squeezing Myka in a tight embrace. "I delight in every way that you choose to express your affections, darling."

"So we cuddle?" Myka asked, grinning.

"I would say so," Helena confirmed, laughing delicately as Myka purred her content and tucked her head over Helena's heart.

"Good," Myka mumbled. "It makes me not so grumpy."

"So I can see," Helena returned playfully.

But Myka didn't respond for several moments, and Helena feared that her snuggling lover had succumbed to sleep again. Until the phone rang a second time, and a slightly more awakened Myka rolled her eyes.

"It seems that someone is rather eager to speak with you, my love," Helena chuckled.

"It's Savannah," Myka shared. "She has her Shakespearean Literature final tomorrow, so she keeps calling at really unfortunate times to probe my brain for answers," she said, picking up the phone and tapping her finger against the 'end' button again. "She's also been hopped up on caffeine for three days, so she's a little more excitable than usual. She doesn't need another review on Othello," Myka said, shaking her head and frowning with deep concern. "She really just needs some rest. But I'll call her back after I get some coffee."

"You mother her," Helena noted, tipping her head to the side curiously.

Myka shrugged uncomfortably. "No one else does."

Helena could sense that Myka wasn't finished, however, so she simply combed her fingers through Myka's curls and waited.

"I looked after her for a while," Myka admitted, several long moments later. "Savannah's parents – my aunt and uncle – never really wanted a kid, and were pretty tied up with some really serious drug problems, so they sent her to live with us when she was four. I was ten," Myka explained, her soft fingers drawing patterns against Helena's hip. "She followed me around a lot when we were kids," Myka laughed fondly. "Tracy was always very sweet, but she was busy most of the time. And I just read books for most of the day, when I wasn't at school, so Savannah would just trail a couple feet behind and sit next to my chair while I read. She'd color, or ask me to read to her."

"You comforted her," Helena said, adoringly eyeing her generous lover.

"I guess. My dad was always pretty scary when we were younger," Myka sighed. "And my mom started getting really sick a couple years after Savannah arrived. She's fine now, but it was very overwhelming at the time. They couldn't figure it out, and she just kept getting sicker; she didn't really have the time or the energy to take care of Savannah, but she didn't want to send Savannah back to her parents, so I mostly watched her."

"You were young, as well," Helena frowned. "Twelve is certainly no age to be rearing a child."

"No," Myka said slowly, "but the alternative was worse. And Savannah was such a quiet kid. She got herself into some trouble over the years for stealing things," Myka rolled her eyes. "But she was a quiet kid. So I made her breakfast in the morning and walked her to school," Myka shrugged again. "When I went to college, Savannah came to live with me. Her parents were more than happy to give up guardianship, so I signed some papers and put her in school, and got a job to cover whatever my parents couldn't help out with, after my mom's medical bills started piling up."

"You offered her a home," Helena murmured, stricken with a heavy dose of awe for this woman.

"She didn't have one," Myka said sadly. "And she deserved to."

"Darling woman," Helena breathed, lowering her lips to the crown of Myka's head and speaking softly into her hair, "your heart knows no limit."

"I have a thing for strays," Myka smiled playfully, squeezing Helena's hip affectionately.

But Helena could easily discern that the compliment, in combination with the topic of discussion, distressed Myka. So she allowed Myka's easy segue, and followed accordingly. "I am no stray, my love," Helena dashed swiftly.

"Please," Myka scoffed, with an accompanying roll of her eyes. "You're pretty much a lost time-traveller, honey. That sort of epitomizes the word 'stray.'"

"I see," Helena said, feigning a look of contemplation as she raised her brow. "And is my status as such the cause of your affinity toward me?"

"Of course not," Myka scowled, apparently having taken great offense before she drew herself up on her elbow to face Helena and could note the playful look in her eye. Myka sighed, and touched the fingers of her free hand to Helena's cheek. "You're so much more than a lost time-traveller," she whispered tenderly, her fingers brushing beneath Helena's ear and eliciting the smallest gasp of breath inward. "You're brilliant," she said, pressing a fleeting kiss to Helena's mouth. "Complicated," she added, smiling, "and maddeningly beautiful, but brilliant, and brave, and so full of good intentions. And I love every part of you, Helena."

"I fear I shall disappoint you one day, Myka," Helena breathed. "When you discover that I am not all that you believe me to be."

Myka shook her head and smiled lovingly, though a bit sadly, and said, "Maybe you'll surprise yourself, instead, when you discover that you _are_ everything that I believe you to be."

Helena's eyes watered, because she could simply never adapt to Myka's endless faith in her, and she framed Myka's cheeks in her palms, pulling her in for a long, simmering kiss that spoke of all the gratitude that she couldn't give voice to.

Myka smiled gently in return, and promptly placed an adoring kiss to Helena's forehead. "We should start getting ready," she suggested softly, shortly after.

"I suppose you're right," Helena agreed, but her hands skated down to Myka's waist, and tugged hard until Myka, laughing freely, fell against her. "But I'd rather indulge in a few more moments with a charming lady in my arms," she offered a quick grin.

Myka sighed her relief. "I'm so okay with more cuddles," she resigned, lying over top of Helena, and somehow inching her hands beneath the slight arch in Helena's back to hold her.

And Helena spoiled her lover with slow, brushing touches, coating her with love and a tenderness that Helena hadn't known she could feel before this woman entered her life, her emotions for Myka swelling wide in her chest. Myka accepted Helena's affection with great appreciation and a number of small, content noises, and she responded to Helena in kind, scattering fond kisses over any expanse of flesh that found itself near her mouth.

They had to return to the Warehouse soon, but they were both startlingly aware that they'd scarcely had a moment to themselves since their date on Saturday evening, and neither intended to squander this moment of blissful seclusion.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ So, in case some of you haven't deduced it yet, Savannah becomes pretty relevant in the near future. I kind of needed to give some background on her, and her relationship with Myka, so I laced it in with a lot of fluff and lovings. Let me know how I did! Please review!


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note:_ Cue Savannah's almost-entrance. Let me know what you think!

* * *

The following two days advanced without much incident, aside from – much to Helena's great displeasure – a very messy event in the gooery on Thursday evening that had not put her in the loveliest of moods.

The neutralizer had plunked enough goo over her head to have it trickling down into her shoes when she stood.

Poor Steve's eyes had widened at the obscenities that had flamed from her lips, and he had wisely endeavored to keep out of her path as she heatedly stalked toward the Umbilicus, and the bath the awaited her at the inn. Myka, however, had chosen to escort Helena home, holding a sopping, purple hand and softly cooing at her, continuing to do so even when Helena's replies consisted of nothing but uncouth vulgarities.

Upon their return, Myka had very slowly stripped Helena of her ruined clothing, and guided her into the shower, where she lovingly washed away every bead of slimy goo from Helena's figure, lowering considerate kisses to each region of pale flesh as it revealed itself to her gaze.

When Myka had finished, Helena had found her spirits to be much improved by Myka's sensitive touch. With great gratitude, she had swiftly turned Myka and showered her with kisses, making love to her against the tile of the shower. The memory of Myka arching away from the wall and into Helena's frame as she cried her approval of Helena's skill had almost made the entire debacle worth the trouble.

Some minutes later, after they extracted themselves from the shower and fell to the bed, Myka folded Helena in her arms, and Helena appreciatively cozied against Myka's side, resting her head against her lover's shoulder. She found herself thoroughly undisturbed by the fact that it could only have been seven o'clock; if the rest of her evening consisted of nothing but lying in the secure hold of Myka's embrace, Helena would be more than content.

She sighed softly, humming as Myka's fingers began to dance delicately over her side. "Thank you, love," she proffered genuinely. "I'm afraid I was rather ill-mannered with you earlier."

Myka smiled, however, and tendered a kiss to the crown of her head. "I cried the first time it hurled on me," she confessed with an unconcerned laugh. "I'm convinced the Warehouse does it on purpose, for its own entertainment."

"I was not entertained," Helena deadpanned.

"No," Myka chuckled in agreement, squeezing her side affectionately. "But you were adorable."

Helena growled faintly at the report. "Bloody furious is what I was, darling," she corrected.

"Bloody furious and dripping in purple," Myka grinned, lifting her hand to filter her fingers through Helena's hair, scented with Myka's shampoo. "And still completely gorgeous," Myka added, infatuated.

Helena scoffed. "Unlikely," she denied. "I've been thoroughly cleansed, and still feel slick with goo."

"It goes away," Myka offered comfortingly.

"Days later, perhaps," Helena grumbled, but gasped just slightly when Myka tugged at her hair, clearly displeased with the negative remark.

"Don't be grumpy," Myka chided warmly. "It's over now."

"I find it's much easier to level my poor disposition when ensconced in your affections, my love," Helena disclosed earnestly.

"Then I'll just keep ensconcing," Myka replied playfully.

But Myka's plan (along with Helena's hope for a simple evening in Myka's company) dissolved with the subsequent knock at Myka's door. Helena sighed her discontent, but Myka hugged her snugly and called out, "Come in!" without shifting away.

Helena was certain that Myka had expected Pete or Claudia to traipse through the door; _she_ had certainly expected one or both of them to be the culprit of the intrusion. Instead, however, she was peculiarly startled.

"Mrs. Frederic?" Myka asked, clearly bemused by the Caretaker's presence.

"Hello, Myka," the darker, older woman replied congenially as she widened the door to admit herself into the room. "Agent Wells," she greeted, nodding in Helena's direction, evidently unsurprised to find her in Myka's bed.

Myka blinked her confusion silently.

"May I have a moment of your time, Myka?" Mrs. Frederic requested shortly thereafter, seemingly understanding that Myka's shock had rendered her incapable of speech, and that Helena simply had nothing to say – aside from a few rather unpleasant words regarding the interruption of her time with Myka, which Helena was certain should remain firmly lodged in her throat.

"Can Helena not stay?" Myka asked unsurely, tipping her head to the side.

A private discussion with Mrs. Frederic was a fairly unusual occurrence, and often did not bode well. The idea that Myka felt more comfortable with Helena by her side warmed her straight through to her bones.

"If you wish," Mrs. Frederic agreed, seating herself in the armchair near Myka's bed and folding her hands primly over her lap. She waited a moment, presumably gathering her thoughts, before she spoke again. "I'm afraid that a relative of yours has come into possession of an extremely temperamental artifact."

Immediately, Myka sighed with exasperation. "Savannah."

It wasn't a question, Helena noted.

"Yes," Mrs. Frederic confirmed, nodding slightly. "This particular artifact also happens to be quite dangerous, in the wrong hands."

"What is it?" Myka asked, the muscles in her face hardening with determination.

"A bow," Mrs. Frederic answered shortly.

"A bow? Like a bow and arrow kind of bow?" Myka asked, brow lifted upward to express her skepticism.

_Obviously Savannah has no use for one of those_, Helena thought dryly.

"A violin bow," Mrs. Frederic clarified. "The bow thought to have belonged to Nero in first century Rome."

"Okay… So how did Savannah get it? And why does she have it?" Myka asked, frowning. "She doesn't even play the violin."

"I am uncertain," Mrs. Frederic informed, though Helena doubted the legitimacy of her statement for reasons that she couldn't name. "However, the bow has been in the Warehouse's possession before."

With immense frustration at the thousands of obvious and unanswered questions that Mrs. Frederic was forcing her to give voice to, Myka huffed, "If it was in the Warehouse's possession before, then how did it end up with my cousin?"

"When the bow is dissatisfied with its location or its keeper, it burns a nearby city to ashes, and proceeds to melt away," Mrs. Frederic answered.

"How appropriate," Helena couldn't help but to mutter. "I presume the bow is only one artifact of a corresponding pair?"

"Yes," Mrs. Frederic verified. "The bow accompanies Nero's fiddle. The artifacts are individually lethal; together, the results are simply catastrophic."

"So you want me to go and get it from her?" Myka asked. "Artie could have told us that… It doesn't really seem worthy of your time to take it to me, personally," she finished suspiciously.

"I'm not here to send you to your cousin's side, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic said quietly. "I'm here to inform you that The Regents and I have elected to send Ms. Morgan to yours."

Myka blinked once, and then, in a flurry of rapid motion, she'd stood. "No," she rejected brusquely.

Helena reached for her hand, but aside from the reflexive grip that Myka's fingers took over her palm, the motion hardly seemed to faze her lover.

"Our options are limited, Myka," Mrs. Frederic told her, a rare sympathy lingering at the edges of her words.

"No," Myka said again, firmly. "I won't bring Savannah here. I _will not_ put her in that kind of danger."

"Myka, darling," Helena said softly, caring little for the fact that she had just interrupted the intimidating black woman who had found herself in her partner's room, "the Warehouse will be the safest place for her."

"Nothing about this place is safe," Myka denied emphatically. "No," she shook her head. "The answer is no."

"It wasn't a question, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic said, rising from her position to face Myka. Then, she said more softly, "I recall that you made one request, upon determining to remain a recruit within the Warehouse, and that request detailed that your cousin stay clear of it. However, this bow that she has come into contact with is very particular about its carrier. It seems, for the moment, to be satisfied in Ms. Morgan's care, and until we can have it secured in the Warehouse, with the fiddle, the bow will remain in your cousin's possession."

Helena regarded her paramour with deep concern. Myka was very strongly bonded to Savannah. And her lover wasn't wrong; the Warehouse had not proved to be the safest of places for them. The artifacts that it housed were precarious in nature, and the few who knew of the Warehouse were either bound to it for life, or – more than likely – the sort who despised its existence and plotted for its downfall. If this bow was in Savannah's possession, it could put her at great risk – particularly if the fiddle had found its way to a new owner, as well.

"Myka," Helena murmured, tugging softly at her hand until she turned to face her, "if the bow must remain under Savannah's supervision, then would it not be best if Savannah remained under yours?"

"She shouldn't have it at all!" Myka exclaimed, though Helena could see the fear that darkened in her eyes, and she tightened her hold on Myka's hand.

"No," Helena agreed gently. "But that doesn't change the fact that she does, my love. And, as that is the case, perhaps it will even be beneficial for the both of you to spend some time in each other's company while you keep her out of harm's way."

"Do I have a choice?" Myka snapped rhetorically, pulling her hand from Helena's and scraping it through her dampened curls.

Helena watched as she took a breath, and began to pace. When she stopped, she faced a very still Mrs. Frederic. "If anything happens to her," Myka said darkly, "I will hold you and The Regents accountable."

Mrs. Frederic inclined her head. "Understood, Agent Bering," she acknowledged, and excused herself from the room shortly after.

Helena was pleased that Mrs. Frederic had taken Myka's less-than-veiled threat for what it had been presented as, because she, at least, had no doubt that Myka Bering was a force to be reckoned with, given the right incentive. And Savannah was clearly incentive enough.

She tilted her head to have a long, decent look at her lover, and when Myka's frightened gaze locked onto hers, Helena motioned for her to climb into the bed. It took her a moment, but Myka adhered to the silent request and sat tensely at the edge of the mattress.

"I'm sorry, darling," Helena whispered, circling Myka's waist with her arms, and feeling slightly relieved when Myka buried her head against her neck, and sighed.

"She was never supposed to know about the Warehouse," Myka mumbled into her shoulder. "I didn't want her involved with any of this. Ever."

"I know, my love," Helena soothed.

And then Myka laughed, seemingly unable to help herself. "She's going to be _so_ pissed."

"Mm," Helena hummed contemplatively. "I imagine the deserts of South Dakota don't harmonize well with the aspirations of a twenty-four year old woman."

Myka sighed again. "Savannah's never been picky about where she lives. A side effect of her childhood, I'm sure," Myka said sadly. "She's not going to be angry about being here; she's going to be angry that I lied to her. Although, she probably already knows."

"How is that, darling?" Helena inquired softly, easing Myka fully onto the bed and beneath the covers.

"She's very good at reading people," Myka said, suddenly annoyed. "Infuriatingly good. She hardly pays attention to the things around her, unless she's found something interesting enough to sketch, but she'll notice if a finger twitches out of place, and she's intuitive enough to interpret what it means, most of the time. Do you have any idea how hard it is to live with a kid that you can't get away with lying to?"

"I imagine it's quite difficult," Helena chuckled, hooking a curly lock behind Myka's ear, and brushing her thumb beneath it comfortingly.

"I do miss her," Myka confessed, glancing up at Helena with vulnerable eyes. "And it will be nice to see her. I just…"

"Wish to be reunited elsewhere?" Helena offered supportively.

Myka simply nodded.

"I can only advise you to make the best of a very poor situation, Myka," Helena murmured kindly.

"We seem to do that a lot around here," Myka replied wryly. "You know, I think they underestimate how hard it is to not be able to do anything while we watch the world fall apart."

"'Fiddle while Rome burns,' indeed, darling," Helena answered ironically. "Although, from the tales, it seems to be well-discerned that Nero found that task to be quite simple."

Myka's answering retort: "Nero was an ass."


	19. Chapter 19

Helena held Myka for several minutes after their conversation had faded to silence. She presumed that her lover was considering the situation that her cousin had somehow become tangled into, but Myka had already spoken of her fears for Savannah's safety, so Helena was content to dote tender caresses upon her while Myka processed the knowledge in quiet.

But not long after, Myka interrupted the peace of her room to exasperatedly call out, "You can come in, Pete."

Helena's brow lifted with swift amusement when Pete and Claudia all but tumbled through the door, Claudia's hand gripped firmly around Steve's arm as she towed him behind her.

With a sheepish look, Pete tossed Myka a pack of Twizzlers, but he said nothing as he speculatively eyed her from his position by the window. Helena supposed he was probably trying to get a read on Myka's mood before he ventured into inquires.

"Dude, what did Mrs. F want?" Claudia spewed when Pete failed to produce words.

Myka's fingers readily moved to tear open the package of candy that had been thrown in her direction, and she pulled one out before she replied, "My cousin's coming."

"Here?" Steve probed suspiciously, pointing with both index fingers to the floor. "To the Warehouse?"

Myka nodded.

"How come?" Steve asked, his head tilting to the side interestedly.

"Apparently she's the proud new owner of Nero's bow," she began dryly, "which goes with Nero's fiddle," she continued, tearing off a bit of Twizzler with her teeth, "which we don't have."

"Please do 'splain," Claudia demanded, jumping onto the bed and snatching at one of Myka's sweets before anyone could think to tell her not to.

Helena fought off a scowl as she bounced with Claudia's leap onto the mattress, but Myka smiled indulgently and rested her free hand against Helena's thigh, which curiously halted the reprimand that threatened to snap from her lips.

"I don't know very much about it," Myka sighed. "I have to do some research before – "

"Always with the books," Pete interrupted, rolling his eyes.

"You know what, Pete, my books have saved your life more times than I can count, so shove it."

"Books have great value. You oughtn't disparage them," Helena admonished reproachfully, though Myka's aggravated rebuke had emerged concurrently with Helena's words, and she wasn't certain that either of them had been heard, despite that their joint message had been clearly received.

"Alright, alright!" Pete surrendered, throwing his hands into the air. "Jeez," he frowned. "I _knew_ having two Mykas around would suck," he grumbled.

"Okay, kiddies, that's enough," Claudia mediated, before she shifted her attentions back to Myka. "So why's your cousin coming here? I mean, can't we just snag, bag, 'n tag the thing?"

Myka shook her head. "Mrs. Frederic said that we can't do anything with it until we have the fiddle, and it has to stay with her until then because the bow is clingy and it likes her."

"It likes her?" Steve said, raising his eyebrows. "You have to put your cousin's life in danger, because an artifact _likes_ her?"

Myka's Twizzler curved into her mouth as she nodded with wide, annoyed eyes, and Helena was immediately certain that those candy twists would be the death of her, because she simply couldn't avert her eyes from Myka's strawberry reddened lips, despite their present company.

"That sucks, Mykes," Pete said sympathetically, plopping into the armchair.

"Yeah," Myka agreed.

"But we get a new friend to play with!" Claudia asserted exuberantly, performing a little jig. "No offense to you guys, 'cause you know I love you, but seriously, I'm around you _all_ the time. And you guys aren't that exciting anymore," she pouted.

"We already barely get hot water for the shower," Steve reminded.

"Seriously," Pete rolled his eyes. "It's Myka's freakin' baths that mess up the whole schedule."

"I happen to be quite fond of those baths," Helena defended with a smirk, and Myka lightly smacked her jean-clad thigh for the dirty quip.

"Behave," her lover instructed firmly.

"Yeah," Pete agreed, nodding and pointing at her swiftly. "_Behave_. I have enough mental videos of you and Myka from… you know… the sounds and stuff…"

Myka flushed instantaneously and anxiously finished off the rest of her Twizzler, but Helena grinned and waspishly replied, "A woman well satisfied often tends to resonate, Agent Lattimer; or haven't you experienced that particular gratification?"

Claudia snorted indelicately before erupting into laughter with Steve.

"Hey!" Pete cried over their cachinnations. "I actually have some skills in that area, thank you," he declared defensively, puffing up his chest.

Myka shook her head and leaned further back into Helena's embrace, and Helena offered a silent kiss to the side of her head as an apology for rising to the bait that Pete had lured in front of her.

"You two are just so snuggly and cute," Claudia proclaimed abruptly, her face scrunched up as though she were cooing at a baby, and her fingers ready to stretch out to Helena's cheek for a healthy pinch.

"Claude, I don't think – " Steve began, but Helena glared at the offending hand before it could move and before Steve could finish explaining to Claudia that her forthcoming action would have severe and unpleasant consequences. In reply to the glower she received, Claudia scrambled over Helena's legs to sit beside Myka instead, glancing apprehensively over at Helena before shifting her eyes away, tucking herself safely behind Myka's shoulder.

"I am not cute," Helena rejected the notion emphatically, lifting her brow defiantly.

Myka rolled her eyes, and leaned a bit further toward Claudia to offer on an exaggerated whisper, "She doesn't like that word."

"It was a good thing!" Claudia exclaimed.

"I thought it was sweet," Myka indulged, smiling fondly at the younger woman. "Don't take it personally, Claude."

"So…" Pete disturbed their banter, unconcerned, "this is Savannah we're talking about, right?"

"Yeah," Myka confirmed with a nod, tucking a new Twizzler into the corner of her mouth and sucking on it pensively. Those infernal slivers of rope, however, had worn Helena's restraint far too thin and for far too long, so, before she could even conceive of taking a moment to reflect upon the action, her fingers reached up to grab the sugary cord, and she all but yanked it from Myka's mouth.

"Helena!" Myka protested.

"Uh-oh," Pete lamented warily, shaking his head meaningfully back and forth.

"Darling, I can only withstand so much of the torment that these demonic sweets inevitably bestow," Helena informed dimly, offering Myka a repentant look, to which her lover scowled at.

"She needs those!" Pete leaped upward with an urgency that Helena rarely saw from him. "Seriously, you don't _know_ crazy until you've seen stressed-out-Myka without those things! She's gets all Hulk-like kinda mad and grrrr," he growled, while making some strange motion with his hands over his face to mimic some reference to a transformation that Helena simply couldn't understand. "HG, you gotta give it back!" Pete finished, gesturing wildly to convey the importance of his command.

"I do not get Hulk-like," Myka snapped, aggravated.

"You get kinda Hulk-like," Steve and Claudia simultaneously argued, with matching expressions of weak reluctance.

Myka rolled her eyes and, with a blistering puff, she ripped a new Twizzler from her package and tore a bite from it. She then pointed it at Helena, and declared, "I love you." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Helena's cheek. "Don't take my Twizzlers again," she finished resolutely. "They're kinda right. It's a terrible habit, and I've tried so many times to give them up, but it's a stress thing," she shrugged feebly.

"Myka, I'm well aware that they offer you comfort," Helena sighed, pleased that her partner wasn't terribly angry with her. "But there's no cause to make a show of it, love," she said, frustrated, and drawing her hands through her hair.

"I wasn't – "

"Unintentional, darling," Helena assured, reaching out to soothe her nails over Myka's covered knee. "But tantalizing, nevertheless."

"And on that note!" Claudia jumped upward eagerly. "We're just gonna make like flies and flee," she announced, heading toward the nearest exit.

When neither Pete nor Steve made to move, she reversed her path with a fluid pivot and latched onto the boys' arms, dragging them quickly out the door, and being sure to shut it behind her with a hefty slam.

"You really get worked up by these Twizzlers," Myka acknowledged softly.

"Not the Twizzlers, my love," Helena denied darkly. "The way that you vex me with them."

"And how do I do that?" Myka asked, the hint of a provocative smile curving the edges of her mouth.

"Dear Myka, you have such a lovely mouth," she murmured, her tone sultry and low. She grazed the pads of her fingertips teasingly over Myka's lips as she leaned forward. "And so gifted," she whispered, sure that her breath stroked against Myka's face. "The manner in which you savor those sweets…" she husked predatorily, her words melting into a kiss that barely brushed Myka's mouth. "I find it simply delicious."

Myka was swiftly reduced to a puddle of silence beneath her as Helena shifted to cover her lover's body with her own. Helena skated her fingers down Myka's arm until she could close her hand over the one that she'd found, and she slowly lifted it to hover in the air above Myka's cheek.

Myka's lips instinctively parted for the Twizzler that she held, and Helena's eyes darkened with lust and greed as she used her delicate grip on Myka's hand to guide the candy to her lover's mouth. She absorbed the way that Myka's lips folded over the transgressing twist, and released a groan that couldn't have been helped even if she'd thought to try. And before Myka could sink her teeth into it, Helena eased their hands backward so that the Twizzler slithered away from her tongue.

"There," Helena crooned. "That is what arouses me so, my love."

"I – " Myka bravely tried to string a few words together, but Helena leaned forward and took the piece of candy between her own lips, and Myka's impending sentence broke as Helena hummed her approval of the strawberry flavor while Myka's breathing hitched.

"Tell me, darling," Helena purred seductively, nipping her teeth into the cord and drawing a small bite of it into her mouth. "Tell me that it doesn't have your blood running hot," she muttered wickedly. "That it isn't positively," she kissed Myka then, hot and slow and persuasive, her tongue just barely reaching out to taunt, "insufferably," another kiss, and she drew Myka bottom lip between her teeth and dangerously scraped against it until she tasted copper, "maddeningly luscious," she finished, her tongue curling around the final sound like the word in itself was a sin.

"Helena – " Myka rasped.

But Helena's mouth met her lover's, effectively silencing Myka's words, and she moaned from somewhere low in her chest when Myka's tongue eagerly thrashed out to seek her own. Helena lowered her hips to rest heavy over her partner's, and Myka grinded upwards in answer, needing so much more than the little pressure that Helena had granted.

Helena heaved Myka's hand above her head, pinning it down and capturing her opposite one as soon as she had the leverage to do so, bracketing her lover's wrists together and fastening her fingers around them in a secure hold. Her other hand swept the length of Myka's aching body, lifting her shirt to blaze heated digits across a toned stomach and up, until she could feel a pointed nipple beneath Myka's bra pressing against her palm, and her lover curved upward with a gasp that breathed of desire. Helena kneaded the breast beneath her fingers, concealing her face in Myka's neck and trimming into the flesh with her teeth when Myka tore away to release a pining whimper.

Her tongue danced over Myka's neck, inciting her, and she could feel Myka weakly attempting to free her arms to touch, to take anything from Helena that she could while the Victorian tormented her with lips and teeth and voracious, talented hands, but Helena kept a firm grip and denied her the luxury.

However, with Myka's wrists bound together, Helena could do nothing about the blouse that her lover wore but gradually unbutton it, her handicap of having but one free hand only slowing the process, and serving to frustrate Helena immensely. Once a clear strip of Myka's lovely flesh became visible, she lowered her mouth from Myka's neck to her collar, inching downward and shifting Myka's bra until she could clasp a tortured nipple between her lips.

Myka keened under the warmth of Helena's tongue as it flickered outward over her lover's breast, but Helena allowed no respite and held Myka's hips steady with her hand as she continued to lavish attention upon the vulnerable flesh. When Helena's teeth just hardly touched against it, Myka cried out as her hips pitched into Helena's, and, with determined vivacity, Helena shifted her mouth down further, just beneath Myka's breast, and then an openmouthed, desperate kiss against Myka's ribs, the side of her stomach, before a frantic nip against Myka's hip.

Her fingers fumbled – there was no better word for it – against the clasp of Myka's jeans, and when it proved nearly too difficult for her, with Myka's hips thrusting upward the way that they were, she loosened her hold on Myka's wrists only after tugging the skin at Myka's waist into her mouth with an implied warning for Myka's hands to remain precisely where they were. And then she dexterously popped the button out of place, and all but ripped the cumbersome piece of clothing from Myka's long legs, lathering kisses down the expanses of skin and back up again, scraping her nails roughly up Myka's thighs and eliciting a long, deep moan that growled from her lover's throat.

Helena hovered over Myka's sex, and seared a look up Myka's panting figure until she could lay eyes on her lover's face. And a heated blow of desire singed directly through to Helena's core, because Myka Bering was spread beneath her, arms stationed above her head and her shirt peeled to her sides, glorious curls fanning into a tangled chaos that framed her face, where her eyes pleaded for Helena's touch, and her lips parted with desperation.

Myka squirmed under her – an inevitable response to the sensation of Helena's breath as it capered over her sensitive flesh – and Helena obligingly stretched her tongue out, groaning appreciatively as she drew over Myka's clit, and Myka raked in a hard, loud gasp of air.

"Helena!" Myka cried, her hips surging forward for more of Helena's devotion, and her hands rapidly reminded themselves how to move, fisting into Helena's hair. Helena growled at Myka's rebellion, but allowed her hands to remain when the vibration of her noise had Myka's entire body lifting as her lips opened to release a silent scream.

And Helena could take little more.

She took Myka's clit between her lips, sucking hard against it and flaming her tongue over the swollen nub, exulting in the cries that hissed from Myka's mouth, and hungrily feeding off of them, lashing against her sex with determined intensity. And when her tongue lowered and dipped into Myka's heat, her partner sighed out her brief liberation, before she began to writhe under Helena's broiling worship.

"Helena, please," Myka beseeched, her voice scarcely a croak as it rushed through her lips. "God, I need you," she rambled breathily. "Please…"

The proclamation incited a hot fever in Helena's veins, and the nails of her left hand tore into the flesh at Myka's hip, while the fingers of her right moved urgently to Myka's clit, rubbing furiously against it as her tongue delved deep inside her lover, extracting the headiest of sobs from Myka's reddened mouth.

Myka's fingers coiled tighter in Helena's hair, and she moaned at the rough tug, her tongue humming into Myka's core, and the added stimulation tipped Myka, shoved her into a hard, impassioned climax, as she cried her release with a slew of hot words in a language that Helena didn't speak.

She slackened her hold over Myka's waist, and softly continued to lap the length of Myka's sex until her hips ceased to surge upward with every touch of Helena's tongue. She hushed a soothing, innocent kiss over Myka's hip, and made her way up, shifting to her side, watching, waiting as Myka drank in healthy gulps of air.

"God, sex with you makes everything else feel so much better," Myka managed several minutes later, though her voice was soft and hoarse when it arose.

"The sentiment is mutual, darling," Helena murmured into Myka's hair, hugging her arms around her partner's still-trembling frame.

Myka simply panted in the silence.

"I find I'm rather fond of a woman who speaks in tongues," Helena offered quietly, with a playful squeeze around Myka's shoulders.

Myka glanced up at her inquisitively, and Helena raised a brow. "You spoke Italian, my love," she informed.

Myka snorted, and proceeded to flush. "That's new."

"Oh?" Helena smirked, quite satisfied with the revelation.

"Mm," Myka hummed gently. "Savannah always wanted to visit Italy to see the statue of David, so I learned Italian and taught it to her, and took her to Rome the summer before she started college. But Italian isn't very widely used, so I don't speak it often. I thought I'd forgotten how."

"Evidently not," Helena quipped, but then she sighed contently against Myka's ear, and Myka quaked under the heat.

"I should get her room ready," Myka announced softly. "Mrs. Frederic didn't say when she was supposed to be getting here, but The Regents don't usually waste much time when it comes to things like this."

"No," Helena whispered her agreement. "They tend not to."

Another moment of silence, and then, "Can we just lay here another minute?" Myka requested vulnerably.

"As long as you like, my love," Helena assured lovingly, curving a messy curl from Myka's face behind her ear. "There's nowhere better I'd like to be," she promised, kissing the crown of Myka's head.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ I promise that Savannah will be in the next chapter! I tried to put her in this one, but it just didn't work out... Myka does this teasing thing with a Twizzler in one of the Warehouse clips that I had to do a scene with, because there's no way Helena wouldn't be tempted by that. And also, I just couldn't help myself. Please review!


	20. Chapter 20

Myka had spent the past four hours of the evening blustering around the house to prepare for Savannah's arrival. Helena had offered to help, and Myka had gratefully allowed it, but Helena had given up twenty minutes in when Myka began to undo everything that they had done, simply so that she could do it again.

Helena knew that she was anxious, and truly just needed to occupy her hands, so she had trailed behind Myka for an hour, attempting to soothe her lover with soft words of comfort. Myka, however, continued to fret over the bed sheets, and the bathroom towels, and the pillows, and any number of other things that, on another day, she would have cared very little about.

And then Savannah had called.

Their conversation had been relatively short, and didn't touch upon any of the looming subjects that were destined to be discussed, but Savannah had told Myka that she should be pulling up to the bed and breakfast in a few hours.

And with that call, Myka's fraying emotions led her into a more frenzied meticulousness that had simply served to make Helena dizzy. Instead of submitting herself to that, and to help stave off Myka's growing irritation with the cooing shadow that Helena provided, Helena settled herself at the kitchen table with a cup of tea, and caught glances of Myka as she rushed around the inn. She would brush her fingers along Myka's wrist consolingly or tug her down for a brief, loving kiss, eliciting a small, nervous smile from her partner before her harried motions continued.

"She's still running around like that?" Steve frowned his concern, seating himself at the table across from Helena with a mug of coffee.

"Mm," Helena hummed, indulging herself with a sip of hot tea. "Yes. She's rather nervous, I'm afraid. She's quite fond of this Savannah."

"Yeah, Pete said that," Steve nodded thoughtfully. "Should we do something?" He asked quietly, peeking over his shoulder to be sure that Myka wasn't nearby. "I mean, she's been doing this for hours… She's had Claudia and Pete on lookout since nine. Don't you think she's going a little overboard?"

"Actually, in point of fact, Pete and Claudia assigned themselves to sentry duty, in a vain attempt to calm Myka's nerves," Helena replied wryly. "And I'm quite certain that she is, indeed, going a bit overboard, as you say; however, I'm fairly certain that there's nothing to be done about it, and quite honestly, if all this bustling about soothes her, then I'm content to allow it."

"I guess so," Steve agreed half-heartedly. "How much longer until Savannah gets here? It's getting kinda late."

"Myka's expecting her any moment now," Helena informed with a sigh. "Which is just as well, as her fussing has me a bit on edge."

"Yeah," Steve puffed. "I think we're all feeling a little of that. I've never seen her like this before."

"Nor have I," Helena admitted. "Although, I can't say that I'm terribly surprised. She's feeling quite powerless against the situation, and that is not a position that Myka has any preference for."

"No," Steve agreed with a laugh. "No, it's definitely, _definitely_ not."

Helena dragged in another taste of her tea, before Steve inquired, "How are you doing? I mean, meeting the family is a pretty big step…"

Helena pondered over the question, before replying genuinely, "I hadn't thought much on it, I'm afraid. I was a bit too preoccupied with Myka's domestic antics to consider much else."

"Sorry," Steve apologized sheepishly. "I didn't mean to get you worked up about it. It was just a thought that occurred to me, and I really just need to learn to keep my mouth shut," he finished, looking upward and shaking his head to himself.

"I hardly think an introduction is cause for alarm, Agent Jinks," Helena laughed softly.

"Good," Steve mumbled, reassured that he hadn't caused much damage with his remark. "No, that's really good. No use stressing about it, right? Myka seems to have that covered."

"Indeed," Helena replied dryly.

"Do you think – "

But Steve's words were cut off by a loud thump from upstairs, as Claudia shouted out, "Mykes, she's here!"

"Oh, thank God," Helena breathed her relief with a roll of her eyes, taking a last sip of tea before she stood with Steve to place the dishes in the sink.

The former ATF agent cast her a look that clearly read, _"Here we go,"_ before the two moved to the staircase, where they narrowly avoided a collision with Pete and Claudia as they raced down the stairs.

"Whatcha waitin' for, Jinksy?" Claudia exclaimed animatedly. "Let's go! Vamoose! Andale, andale!"

"Don't you think we should wait for Myka?" Steve asked, raising his brow at his best friend as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, where is Myka?" Pete queried, comically shifting his gaze around and leaning forward to take a look around the corner.

"Behind you, Pete," Myka said, smiling affectionately as he leaped into the air, before rounding swiftly to face her.

"Jeez, Mykes! I know you're wiggin' out and stuff, but _jeez_!" He said again. "That was just _freaky_!"

"I am not wigging out," Myka argued. "I just… got a little nervous, that's all."

Despite that they were all in clear agreement that Myka had, indeed, been 'wigging out,' no one pressed the subject further.

"Whatevs," Claudia said, tossing a hand out in a _who-cares-anyway_ motion, before she latched onto Myka's arm and began to haul her through the door. "C'mon! Let's go make her all at home and welcomed and stuff!"

Helena snorted softly, but relieved Myka of Claudia's grip to press a quiet kiss against the corner of her mouth. "Don't fret, darling. There's only so much anger your dear cousin could justify; you were only protecting her, love."

Myka nodded, though Helena could discern that she was still rather unconvinced. Helena offered a gentle squeeze to her lover's hand, before she released it to gently encourage Myka through the door.

A navy blue pickup truck was parked outside, a few meters from the door and pulled up beside Myka's vehicle. Against it, Helena could make out a small, brunette woman holding a cell phone up to the air. Myka's cousin didn't shift when the door to the inn leveled to a close, and Helena observed Myka as she rolled her eyes.

"You're in the middle of the desert, Savannah," Myka's voice emerged with a rebuke. "In a place you've never been before, with people you've never met. A little awareness wouldn't kill you."

"Mykey!" Came the ensuing exclamation, and Myka swiftly moved forward to catch the girl as she lunged herself into Myka's arms for a hard embrace with a significant, "Ooph," parting from her lover's lips.

"Hi, bug," Myka smiled, kissing the crown of Savannah's head when the woman tucked it against Myka's shoulder. When Myka pulled away, she cradled her cousin's face in her hands and kissed her cheek. "How was the drive? You should've flown," Myka chided. "It takes a whole day to drive from New York."

"I don't go anywhere without the truck, Mykey," Savannah grinned. "You know that." Savannah then leaned forward to hug Myka again, and sighed, "I missed you," and her voice was small – childlike in its innocence, which seemed rather fitting under Myka's mothering.

"The Regents let you do that?" Claudia spluttered disbelievingly, before she remembered herself and exuberantly added, "Hi there, by the way. Claudia Donovan – resident computer whiz and sometimes-field agent."

Savannah looped her arm around Myka's waist and her face split into a quick grin that belied nothing of her previous emotion. "Well, aren't you just a little ray of lovely sunshine? I'm Savannah, and if The Regents have anything to do with that terrifying black woman who appeared in my apartment," Savannah huffed, "then they weren't thrilled with the idea. At least not until I mentioned having to check that nifty violin bow for the flight; they started singing a pretty different tune after that. A much friendlier one, too," she declared.

"So you met Mrs. Frederic," Pete grinned. "She gets less terrifying. Kinda," he conceded. "She still does that thing where she appears outta nowhere, though, and I guess that's pretty terrifying…"

"You must be Pete," Savannah smiled knowingly.

"How d'you know he's not Pete?" Claudia ribbed, gesturing toward Steve with her thumb.

Savannah turned to Myka, and inquired, "Pete's the frisky one, right?"

"That was your word, not mine," Myka reminded with a laugh. "But yeah, he's that one."

"Frisky?" Pete asked, shuffling his belt around his waist with the compliment. "Aw, shucks, Mykes."

Savannah laughed her appreciation. "Adorable," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else before shifting her pensive, honey brown gaze in Jinks' direction. "You're Steve, then? I have to say, I haven't heard much about any of you."

Steve nodded. "It's nice to meet you," he greeted, reaching his hand out for a formal shake.

Savannah chuckled, but accepted and returned the gesture. "You too," she said warmly. "And how fitting for the silent type to be so proper…" The woman mused.

"How come Jinksy doesn't get any compliments?" Claudia pouted in defense of her friend.

Savannah arched her brow upward, before she disclosed on an exaggerated whisper, "Honey, my compliments are usually nothing but playful flirts, to be honest, and I'm ninety-eight percent confident that your dear friend Jinksy is gay, despite that he's a wonderfully handsome man."

Helena lifted her brows and smirked, eyeing Myka as she tucked her lips between her teeth to stave off a laugh, and shook her head with fond reluctance at her cousin's amusing comment.

"Dude!" Claudia exclaimed, though a touch of pink had nested in her cheeks at Savannah's remark. "How'd you know he's gay?"

"And are you?" Pete couldn't help but ask, shifting his arms near his chest in a protective motion as he shifted away from Myka's ensuing glower.

"I'm an artist, doll," Savannah grinned. "We're pretty…"

"Renowned," Myka offered helpfully, when it was clear that the woman was struggling against her vocabulary to complete the sentence.

"Renowned," Savannah snapped her fingers, nodding. "We're pretty renowned for our diverse preferences in that area," she winked at Pete, who blushed a little and nodded as he looked to the ground, embarrassed.

"So how'd you know Jinksy was gay? That's a neat trick, dude!" Claudia praised. "Unless Myka told you," she added suspiciously.

"Myka didn't," Myka replied.

"Well?" Claudia inquired expectantly, regarding Savannah with rapt attention.

"His gaze doesn't drift downward when she speaks, obviously," Helena chuckled. "Pete has yet to master that particular gift, I'm afraid, love," she shared with Savannah.

"Your voice is heavenly," Savannah spewed in reply, and, in a gesture that purely reeked of Myka's influence, she drew her bottom lip between her teeth before she murmured to herself, "or satanic; I'm not really sure…"

"Thank you," Helena replied gently, though a little uncertainly, brows furrowing downward as she speculatively eyed the girl. She seemed to have lost herself in a bit of a trance.

"Savannah," Myka nudged, exasperation clear in her tone.

"Mm?" The woman acknowledged dazedly, tilting her head toward Myka, but not averting from her visual assessment of Helena.

"She's taken," Myka informed softly, and, though Helena couldn't be sure, it seemed that Myka was familiar with the dreamy state that her cousin had fallen subject to, and Myka seemed bothered by it.

"Pity," Savannah mumbled, her eyes never shifting from Helena's figure. "Though not for you. She's clearly yours," Savannah announced definitively, before her face broke into a wide smile. "And not pleased with the possessive term. Defiant thing, isn't she?" She glanced up at Myka with delight. "My mistake, sweetheart," she amended, "you don't belong to anyone, do you? But I bet you just fold into Myka, huh?"

"You bet she does," Pete grinned excitedly. "Man, that's cool!"

Myka gave Savannah a bit of a shove, before the woman blushed, and said quickly, "I'm sorry. I space out sometimes, and I have very bad timing with it, but that was incredibly rude of me, and I didn't mean to – "

"Savannah," Myka interrupted, troubled. "Take a breath, bug."

Helena observed as Myka's cousin followed the instruction instinctively, though Helena got the distinct impression that adhering to orders was not a habit that Savannah often engaged in, solely to Myka's exclusion.

"How long has it been since you got some sleep?" Myka worried, facing her cousin and drawing her hands through straight, dark hair in a soothing motion that Savannah guiltily shrank into.

Savannah shrugged. "I ran out of the sleep meds a few days ago. I think I got an hour or two on Tuesday, but it was finals week, Mykey," she pleaded for her cousin's understanding. "I didn't have time to refill it; I needed to finish my thesis exhibition piece."

"Savannah," Myka softly admonished, "it's _Thursday_."

"What happened to Wednesday?" The girl mumbled to herself, though where Helena had expected to hear jest in her tone, she discerned only earnest seriousness.

She could feel Pete and Claudia shifting uncomfortably, surely noting Myka's unease, and remaining silent. Steve simply observed the interaction with a watchful eye, and folded his arms over his chest contemplatively.

"When was the last time you ate, bug?" Myka's voice seemed to rouse her cousin from her thoughts.

"Tanner made me dinner last night," Savannah nodded confidently.

"And you haven't eaten since?" Myka pried gently.

"I don't think so," Savannah confessed, ducking her head into Myka's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Mykey. I can't remember."

"That's okay," Myka reassured with a sigh. "Come on, I'll make you some grilled cheese, okay?"

Savannah nodded weakly, and Pete sought to break the tension with a loud, "Grilled cheese? Mykes, I want one! Please?"

_Or he just wants a sandwich_, Helena considered wryly.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ I'm documenting for the record that Savannah is meant to be difficult to read in this chapter. Let me know what you think! Thanks, guys!


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's Note:_ I'm sure some of you were disappointed with Savannah's apparent scattered personality, but hopefully this chapter will clarify a few things. Please review, even if you hate it!

* * *

Helena scrupulously assessed her lover as Myka stood by the stove, waiting for Savannah's sandwich to heat. Myka had grabbed her cousin's bags from the truck and set them at the foot of the stairs before they had reentered the inn, but Myka had hardly said two words since, and Helena was beginning to distress.

Savannah was caught in a playful debate with Pete over the benefits of American cheese versus cheddar, so Helena subtly made her way to the kitchen, and consequently to Myka's side, before she gently touched her fingers to Myka's back. Myka offered a weak smile in return and shifted further into the caress, but said nothing.

"What has you worried so, darling?" Helena inquired softly, nuzzling her nose into Myka's hair.

"Savannah," Myka murmured, shaking her head. "She's never slept well," Myka sighed. "Not even when she was a kid, but it was never this bad. About a year ago, she started forgetting things, and half the time she can't even think of the words to finish a sentence," Myka anxiously bit her lip. "It's gotten worse since I last saw her. She's forgetting whole days now, where it used to be a couple hours. She went to the doctor around Christmas," Myka explained quietly, and allowed Helena to circle her arms around her waist, resting her chin patiently against Myka's shoulder. "They told her she wasn't getting enough REM sleep and prescribed her some tranquilizers."

"Tranquilizers are quite powerful," Helena frowned thoughtfully.

"Yeah," Myka nodded, flipping the grilled cheese before setting the spatula to rest and tangling her hands through her hair. "But when she doesn't have them, she goes into these… dazes," Myka struggled to find an appropriate word, and then shrugged helplessly at the one that erupted, "and starts saying things that she normally wouldn't. You _do _have a lovely voice, Helena," Myka smiled tenderly, but then she shook her head, "but Savannah would never have said that to you if she'd had some sleep. She's been very sensitive where people are involved since she was a child, but aside from a few remarks here and there, mostly in private, she rarely shares her observations. Now she can't really seem to help herself. The words just sort of… fall out, and she doesn't even remember it half the time, but it makes her very uncomfortable when she does."

Helena faintly heard Artie gust through the door and gruffly greet Savannah, but she remained still with Myka tucked in her arms.

She was grateful for her time spent in the forensics lab in Wisconsin, as her understanding of the modern medical world had been fairly poor before then. Now, however, she could note the gravity of the situation, and Myka's words had rationalized a number of the oddities that Helena had taken note of during their interaction with the younger woman; she could certainly see how Savannah's dreamy state had alarmed her lover.

"Has she had any follow-up examinations?" Helena queried, tenderly pressing her lips to Myka's temple.

"She goes in once a month to have her prescription refilled," Myka nodded. "But her doctor is concerned that even with the tranquilizer, she's not getting the kind of sleep that she's supposed to."

"Her behavior seems a bit strange," Helena admitted tentatively. "Even when taking the lack of sleep into consideration, my love."

"I know," Myka whispered. "That's why I'm worried. The doctor said that her symptoms strayed a little outside of the norm for the condition, and that was in December, when it wasn't nearly as bad," Myka scraped up the sandwich from the pan and lowered it onto a plate, before she moved just a little from Helena's embrace to reach for a glass and pour some milk into it.

"I'll be right back," Myka promised, turning around to face Helena and pressing a brief, loving kiss against her mouth. "Don't go anywhere, okay?"

Helena nodded in return, a small, compassionate smile curving her lips upward, as Myka shifted toward the doorway. But before Myka could exit the kitchen, Artie stomped through the threshold with a startled Savannah's arm caught firmly in the grip of his fingers.

"Artie!" Myka protested swiftly. "What are you doing?"

"How long has she been going into those trances?" The man demanded urgently.

"A year, give or take a month or two," Savannah replied, but she followed her statement with a healthy roll of her eyes as she remembered the situation that she'd found herself in, and she promptly snapped her arm from his grasp with a harsh tug. "And would it have killed you to ask nicely?" She murmured, massaging her arm with a pout that Helena fondly acknowledged was very similar to that of her cousin's.

But Artie ignored the dry question and lifted his briefcase to the table with a harsh thunk_._ He then quickly began to punch the keys with his fingers, so Myka handed the plate and glass to Savannah, and quietly suggested, "Why don't you take this to the table, okay?"

"Mykey – " Savannah frowned.

But Myka shook her head, and rubbed her hands comfortingly over Savannah's shoulders. "We'll talk in a little while, bug. Just give me a few minutes, okay?"

Savannah quietly evaluated her, but after a moment, she nodded her acquiescence, and reluctantly reversed her path.

"Artie!" Myka rounded on the older man. "What were you thinking? You can't just – "

"I was thinking that I've seen that before," Artie interrupted impatiently, twisting his computer screen to face Myka, and when Myka sat down to view it, Helena leaned over her shoulder to get a proper look.

Artie had pulled up an artifact.

The lost manuscript of James Braid, to be more precise, and Helena recognized the name from a past life that seemed far away to her now. The article beside the photo of the text detailed that James Braid had been the surgeon to coin the word 'hypnotist' in the 1800s. He had written a manuscript entitled _On Hypnotism_, and had sent it by post to a French surgeon three days before his death; the manuscript, upon contact – and in conjunction with the supplementary blank pages that had been mailed along with it – allows the artifact's possessor to submerge victims into a stupor, during which all spoken words are transcribed to the empty sheets. The artifact's owner, for lack of a better word, is determined by whoever happens to be in custody of those voided pages.

"You think Savannah's been in contact with this book?" Myka asked quietly.

"Yes," Artie frowned. "I encountered a man in 1998 who suffered a similar symptom. Has she shown any other indications that – "

"Memory loss," Myka murmured. "She forgets things; she can't remember words, or phrases that I _know_ she knows, and she's losing time. She does better when she has the tranquilizers that the doctor gave her to help her sleep, but it's been getting worse, Artie."

"The manuscript reduces brain plasticity. It becomes difficult to form memories, which explains the blackouts, and it's harder to draw connections to information that's already been retained, which explains the trouble she's having with her speech," Artie pushed his glasses up his nose and regarded her with sympathy. "The tranquilizers most likely allow her brain the uninterrupted time it needs to recover from some of the damage."

Myka stood and folded her arms over her chest. "Just… How do we find it, Artie?" She asked, desperation and nerves melting her words into a tremor.

The muscles in Artie's face tightened as he refocused his attentions back to the manuscript. "According to the database," he began with a hesitancy that Helena found curious, "it's in the Warehouse."

"Wait," Myka halted, holding up her hand abruptly without uncrossing her arms. "Let me make sure I processed right… You're telling me that whoever is doing this to her is someone who has access to the Warehouse?"

"I'm going to go and check the inventory," Artie evaded the question that he had no adequate answer to, shoving his laptop into his briefcase with excessive force. As he turned, though, he informed over his shoulder, "I'll call if…" He trailed off, eyeing her with rare affection and concern.

"Thanks, Artie," Myka mumbled distractedly, scraping her hands through curly locks again, and Helena feared she might tear them from her scalp.

"Myka, darling, I know that this is difficult – "

"Difficult is that I've spent the past year thinking that she's sick, and needs more medical attention," Myka said quietly. "That she was really being affected by an artifact… Helena, that's unbearable." And Helena's heart ached when Myka looked up at her with tearful, grieving eyes. "I should have known, Helena. I should have – "

"Myka," Helena interrupted with a breath, shifting forward to cradle Myka's face in her hands, "you _couldn't_ have known. The fact that Savannah has had no prior contact with the Warehouse makes it extremely unlikely that she'd have come into contact with an artifact. The only probable assumption that could have been made is that it was a medical concern, and you treated it as such. You had absolutely no reason to believe that it was anything different, particularly when the physician diagnosed her with a physical condition that you've been witnessing signs of since Savannah's childhood."

"I spend every day around these artifacts, Helena. And I didn't see it," Myka lamented, shaking her head before she tilted it upward to fight off the tears that welled in her eyes. "And how the _hell_ did she come across them to begin with?" Myka asked, a fury in her words that sheltered the fear and self-recrimination.

"I have a difficult time believing that a woman with no previous knowledge of the Warehouse has stumbled upon two such dangerous artifacts purely by chance," Helena confessed quietly, tipping her forehead until it touched against Myka's.

"So do I," Myka muttered. "God, I don't even know how I'm going to explain all of this to her."

"Tequila," Helena heard, and shifted around so that she could face the slender, petite brunette that had just trailed into the kitchen. Savannah placed a fifth of the aforementioned spirit onto the smaller table that resided in the cooking area, and offered with a small quip, "Never travel without it, right, Mykey?"

Myka laughed and nodded, though the tears behind the humor were unmistakable. "Right," she agreed fondly.

Helena took a small step away from her out of respect for the present company, lightly drifting her fingers down Myka's neck in a soothing caress before she did.

"Also," Savannah added, "I need you to make me another sandwich, please." She sheepishly continued, "I gave mine to Pete so that he'd go away. He's a nosy one, isn't he?"

"He can be quite inquisitive," Helena smiled softly in answer, moving for the stove to relieve Myka of her grilled cheese task, and spreading butter over a couple slices of bread before she added the cheese and tossed it onto the still-warm pan. "His intentions, however, are generally honorable."

"He's worried," Myka enlightened, reaching for three shot glasses from the cupboard, and moving to the refrigerator to muster up the limes that Pete kept well-stocked, for the rare occasion that Steve indulged him with key lime pie.

"That seems to be a theme around here," Savannah noted thoughtfully. "Everyone's so worried, Mykey. I've never seen you so tense."

Myka sighed, but nodded as she poured the liquor into the small glasses. She passed one over her shoulder to Helena, with a lime clipped around the edge, but Helena was unsure if she should stay while Myka and her cousin discussed the present circumstances.

"It gets complicated, bug," Myka cautioned, before pushing a shot toward the younger woman.

"It always does," Savannah said, tendering a wide smile. She then sobered, and requested softly, "Talk to me, Mykey."

"I will," Myka assured, running her hands through her hair another time. "But I'd like for Helena to stay, unless you'd rather – "

Savannah shorted the ensuing rant by placing her hand over Myka's arm, while Helena overturned the sandwich in the pan. "It doesn't take superb gifts of observation to see that she calms you, Myka," Savannah disclosed with feigned secrecy and a grin. "If you'd like her to stay, I have no…"

"Objections," Myka filled in with an agonized whisper, when Savannah couldn't provide the word on her own.

"Mm," Savannah hummed, pleased with the assistance that Myka offered. "Yes, those," she said playfully. "I have none."

Helena shifted toward Myka to tighten her fingers over her lover's shoulder in a gesture of comfort. Myka's hand reached up to touch hers, instinctively, and the clandestine smile that Savannah ducked her head to conceal did not escape Helena's notice, but she leaned down to press a kiss to the crown of Myka's head, anyway, before she ambled back to the stove and lowered the sandwich to a plate.

"Okay," Myka said, nodding determinedly. "So – "

"Wait, wait," Savannah insisted. "Drink first!"

Myka laughed resignedly as Helena placed Savannah's food on the table. "Thanks, doll," Savannah smiled her gratitude. "Come on, take a seat. We're drinking now."

Helena offered an amused lift of her eyebrows before she retrieved her drink from the counter and complied with the request.

After adding salt to the curve of her wrist, and patiently waiting for Myka and Helena to do the same, Savannah lifted her glass, and dryly remarked, "To South Dakota," before she fluidly tossed the shot back.

And Helena sat in quiet as Myka drew into the lengthy discussion about the Warehouse and the work that they performed for it.


	22. Chapter 22

Helena was feeling warm.

She was pretty sure it was mostly the tequila. And a little bit due to her full stomach, which she internally credited to Myka with immense appreciation; the moment Myka had noted the flush to Helena's cheeks, she had set yet another sandwich to grill, and Helena had gratefully accepted it with a kiss to the back of her lover's knuckles when Myka laid it before her.

Myka had declined any more of the alcohol after their second shot, reasoning that she felt more comfortable explaining things to Savannah with a relatively clear head. Savannah had understood, but insisted that she needed a drinking partner, so Helena had been "volunteered" and Savannah had poured her another drink before Helena could think to protest.

Three additional shots and a couple hours later, and Helena was feeling decidedly… warm.

She had spent a great deal of the discussion simply observing the young woman who had, somehow or another – and they weren't yet clear on how – found her way to the Warehouse. Helena found that Savannah had accepted the information as graciously as one could, but even so, she'd promptly necessitated another shot when Myka broached the subject of Braid's manuscript, and, upon downing it, she abruptly announced, "That's _creepy_, Myka! I feel like aliens are invading my brain!"

"I know," Myka conceded gently. "But we're going to take care of it, so I don't want you to worry about it, okay?"

Savannah rolled her eyes and shot Helena a look which clearly relayed that, despite Myka's best intentions, _not worrying_ was not an option for the younger woman. Helena had smiled back at her with a composite of sympathy and amusement, but continued to evaluate the girl when Myka began to delve into the subject of the violin bow that had been safely tucked into Savannah's room upstairs.

Savannah's words were now becoming bolder with the alcohol in her system, but Helena had thus far discerned that Myka's younger cousin was a kind woman with a strong playful quality to her, which (she could interpret from Myka's occasionally disapproving glances) had gotten her into a spot of trouble or two in the past. She was patient while Myka gathered her thoughts, and quiet with contemplation as Myka spoke – though not so much with the quiet when she formed her replies; that might have been the alcohol, but Helena believed that the woman simply had a flair for the flamboyant. Savannah hadn't broken into any trances since Artie had departed, and Helena found that without the discomfiting stupors, the girl was rather entertaining company. And the banter that she and Myka exchanged had positively humored Helena into several bouts of laughter, which Myka had grinned at bemusedly.

"Helena?" Myka pried, smiling gently and lifting her brow, and Helena got the very distinct impression that Myka had called for her attention at least once already. "Are you alright?"

"Wonderful, darling," Helena replied, a swift grin lifting her mouth as her tongue rounded off the edges of her words in tribute to her intoxication. "However, I'm afraid I might've indulged in a drink too many."

"Lightweight," Savannah teased.

"I'm certain that these beverages have increased in potency since my time, love," Helena offered, amused, but then she frowned and faced Myka. "Bollocks," she murmured earnestly. "My tongue seems to have escaped me, Myka. I'm sorry."

"It's okay. She's going to like that part," Myka assured with a caring smile, reaching beneath the table to place her hand over Helena's thigh, soothingly rubbing her hand over Helena's jeans, and, despite herself, Helena hummed her contentment.

Savannah smirked at the noise, and Helena fought the overwhelming, childish urge to poke out her tongue, but chuckled softly to herself at the silly thought that had pervaded her inebriated mind, and instead lowered her hand to tighten around Myka's.

Myka launched into a brief (and absurdly simplified) account of the bronzing process and went on to explain that, via an ex-Warehouse agent gone rogue, Helena had been liberated from her metal prison three years prior.

"So how old are you?" Savannah asked, head cocked to the side with curiosity.

Helena's lips parted to speak, but she never gave voice to words.

"Really?" Myka saved her from the blundered response that Helena had no doubt would have emerged from her mouth. "That's your first question?" Myka quipped dryly.

"Mykey," Savannah huffed, "I'm on information overload at the moment, so give me a break, sweetheart."

Myka laughed, and remarked enigmatically, "You don't even know the half of it, bug."

With an exasperated tone of incredulity, Savannah asked, "How can there _possibly_ be more?" She gestured toward Helena using the bottle of tequila that she'd just poured another two shots with, and added, "She's a fucking time-traveller!"

"She's also H.G. Wells," Myka snorted indelicately as she imparted the jarring information.

"Come again?" Savannah demanded, shifting forward with reddened cheeks.

"H.G. Wells," Myka repeated, nodding.

Savannah turned to face her with a scrupulous eye, and Helena offered her an even smile. "Take a moment, love," she said cheekily. "Your cousin required a jiffy to ah – process the knowledge, as well, didn't you, darling?" She grinned at Myka, who rolled her eyes.

"It's a _big_ deal," Myka mumbled in her own defense.

"Did you call her a lightweight?" Savannah asserted suddenly. "Because I just called H.G. Wells a lightweight, and I'm thoroughly…" Savannah blustered for a word that wouldn't come, and she puffed her irritation and disbelief.

"Mortified?" Myka supplied with a grin.

"_Yes!_" Savannah exclaimed. "Oh God," she mourned, throwing the awaiting shot back, and shoving the other filled glass in Helena's direction. Helena eyed it thoughtfully, sure that she shouldn't have another, but at the expectant look that Savannah cast her, she sighed, and followed suit.

"I held her at gunpoint," Myka shared reluctantly, scrunching her face up in a manner that Helena simply found adorable.

"On more than one occasion, as I recall," Helena smirked her amusement.

"You held a gun to H.G. Wells?" Savannah hissed. "Myka, that's like… blasphemy!"

"Well she was – " Myka began to blunder over a defense.

"I don't care if she just shot the fucking Pope, Mykey! That is _not okay_!" Savannah declared emphatically, and Helena erupted with laughter.

"I'm afraid I well earned Myka's threats," Helena proclaimed. "Additionally, your cousin happens to be rather delightfully inclined toward the assertive, so I might have enjoyed those interactions a bit more than I ought to have, love," she winked at Savannah and chortled at Myka's ensuing protestation at her naughty indication.

"You're dating H.G. Wells!" Savannah cried, as though that particular tidbit had escaped her prior to that moment. "Mykey, that's – well, it's just fucking poetic, but you're dating _H.G. Wells_!"

"Watch your mouth," Myka ordered with a disapproving lilt. Helena recalled that she had allowed for the obscenity once, but she presumed that Myka had restrained herself from commenting due to the shock that Savannah had suffered.

Helena watched, thoroughly entertained, as Savannah shrank slightly in her seat under Myka's censure. She then grumbled a quick apology, before she straightened herself again, regarding Helena with a clear expression of wonder, and blurted, "I'm drinking tequila with H.G. Wells." And then she looked over at Myka with pure glee, and announced, "Mykey, I _love it _here. Can we stay? Please?"

Myka laughed, and whispered conspiratorially in Helena's ear, "I told you she'd like that part."

But Helena, in her alcohol-induced fog, trembled as her lover's warm breath tickled over her neck and promptly shivered down her spine to settle in a place that was not appropriate to dwell on with Savannah's keen eyes in attendance. Myka lifted her brow in intrigue, but said nothing as she returned her attentions to her cousin. Helena bit her tongue against a swift swear as Myka's hand drew just slightly, tantalizingly up her thigh, but Helena raked in a breath and tried to calm herself, because it was obvious in the slight smirk on Myka's face that her partner had no intention of indulging Helena in more than a tease – at least for the moment.

"Is that everything?" Savannah asked, a wary trepidation coating her words, because Helena suspected that she had nearly reached her limit on world-shifting information for the evening, and she had little doubt that – with as much alcohol as they had jointly consumed – it was more than likely a bit difficult to take in.

Myka gnawed her lip thoughtfully, and nodded, "I think so. It's the important stuff, anyway."

"Jesus, Mykey," Savannah shook her head with incredulity. "I knew you were hiding some stuff about your job, but I just thought it was some top-secret government thing that you couldn't tell me about."

"Well… it kind of is," Myka pointed out.

"Well, yeah, but… _supernatural_ government stuff!" Savannah huffed.

"I'm sorry," Myka intoned softly. "I just… didn't want you involved in anything that could put you in danger," she finished weakly.

Helena watched while Savannah evaluated her cousin, drawing her lip between her teeth again – and Helena almost groaned, because the motion had her recalling a distinct memory of Myka doing the same as she made a fruitless attempt to stifle her screams as Helena had taken her against the tile of the shower earlier that day.

"I'm going to forego being mad at you for lying through your damn teeth about your work for four years," Savannah decided. "But I need you to promise not to yell when I tell you about how I got that violin bow. Deal?"

Myka eyed her cousin suspiciously, with an obvious frown that she made no effort to conceal.

Helena felt a bit of pity for Myka's younger cousin; she'd been on the receiving end of that particular look before, and though Myka reserved it for those she deeply cared for, that knowledge had not alleviated any of the anticipation that she'd experienced upon awaiting Myka's final judgment.

"Come now, my love," Helena proffered a gentle, though lazy and drunken smile, and a squeeze to Myka's hand, still at rest on her leg. "Grant her a kindness, hm? The offer is quite generous, and she's been a dear about this awful mess."

Myka sighed, and nodded. "Deal," she agreed.

Savannah spared an indebted glance in Helena direction, before she straightened her back and mumbled with relief, "Good." And then, abruptly and with a guilt-stricken countenance, she divulged, "I stole it."

Myka's frown deepened, and Helena dug her nails sharply into Myka's palm (a bit too sharply, she admitted privately upon Myka's brief wince, and swiftly chalked it to the devilish Mexican spirit that was tequila). The action, however, had served its purpose, and grounded Myka from her thoughts long enough for her to murmur speculatively, "You haven't done that in a long time."

"No," Savannah granted. "And, would you believe, Mykey – I was actually nervous," she shared, clearly irritated with that fact.

Myka rolled her eyes. "That's a _good_ thing," she said pointedly.

"It absolutely isn't!" Savannah declared. "Whether I'm using the skill or not, the ability to do it can be very useful."

"Whatever," Myka puffed, and tugged her free hand through her curls. More calmly, she inquired, "Why did you take it?"

Savannah sighed and twirled her empty glass between slender, nimble fingers, and Helena found herself of the thought that her hands were, indeed, well-suited for an artist. "It was in my professor's office," Savannah ceded, and the topic of discussion clearly had the woman a bit sobered. "I went in to ask about the exam material, but Mykey…" she broke away, and a deep look of concentration descended over her features. "The way he was looking at it – " Savannah shook her head. "It was like that thing could destroy all of China, and he would be happy just to chill out and watch it burn."

"Chill out?" Helena raised a brow inquisitively, her inebriation failing to allow her the mental capacity that would have been required to process that this particular moment might not have been the best for a terminology lesson.

Savannah snorted her amusement. "Yeah, I guess being frozen in time for a century would be hell on the vocab, huh?"

"It's infuriating," Helena tousled her hair back with what could only be described as sass, and leaned dramatically against the back of her seat with a sulk that Myka swiftly bent to kiss away.

"It's what the kids say nowadays; it means kick back… uh – nope, that's no good, either. Mykey?" Savannah enlisted her cousin's assistance.

"It means relax," Myka aided with a soft smile.

"Ah," Helena nodded. "Odd," she mused. "I find it rather difficult to relax when I'm chilled."

"You never get chilled," Myka laughed. "How would you know?"

Helena shrugged dismissively.

"Anyway," Savannah resumed, "I'd never seen it in there before, and it just seemed weird. Professor Davidson's a nice guy, Mykey. I've never heard him say anything bad about anyone – disregarding a few misguided essay attempts by some of the kids in my class, and even then he was very kind about it. I asked him where he got it, but he got all defensive and said that someone mailed it to him because they wanted him to have it.

"So I skipped the class later in the week, since I knew he'd be busy with the lecture, and I took it," Savannah admitted, shifting her eyes to Myka sheepishly. "I didn't know it had special powers or anything!" She was quick to defend. "It was just creepy, and I didn't want some stupid violin bow that he didn't need whammying him with whatever weird juju had come over him."

"Whammying," Helena murmured to Myka. "Pete will be absolutely thrilled that she used that particular verb, love."

"Right?" Myka chuckled, but calmed moments after. She regarded Savannah with tolerance for a time that seemed to stretch longer than it ought to have, but when Myka spoke, she said simply, "Okay."

"Okay?" Savannah asked, dubious of Myka's acceptance of her explanation. Helena could see that she wasn't entirely certain why she'd been compelled to nick the object, either, and she was certain that Myka could note that as well.

"You weren't wrong," Myka acknowledged. "It was clearly affecting him, and the artifact seems to be pretty fond of you, so you probably didn't have as much choice in it as you think. And it doesn't really matter," Myka sighed. "Either way, you're here and have to keep an eye on it, so… Okay," she finished. And then, rejuvenated, she added pointedly, "Just don't steal anything else. It took a long time to break you of that habit."

"Yeah, yeah," Savannah shelved the matter, and poured another shot.

"None for me, darling," Helena quickly halted her as she lowered the bottle to the second glass. "I've had quite enough."

"Far be it from me to peer pressure H.G. freaking Wells," Savannah rolled her eyes, and sat back in her seat with a slight _"humph,"_ as she took the evening's revelations into account.


	23. Chapter 23

It hadn't been twenty minutes after she and Myka had finished up their conversation with Savannah before Pete and Claudia had marched into the kitchen demanding a movie night in honor of Savannah's arrival. Myka had offered weak protests that Savannah needed sleep (and, really, they all did – because it was already past eleven), but Savannah had swiftly dismissed the notion and declared that she had not yet arrived to the sleepy stage of her inebriation, and would be more than happy to watch a movie with them.

So Helena (who found that she was also rather alert, for the time being) had consented to a late-night showing of what Pete had called _Star Wars_.

As Pete began to explain the premise of the plot (with assistance from an eager Claudia), Myka had settled herself on the loveseat, and gestured for Helena to do the same. So Helena had complied, and swiftly found herself purring as Myka encouraged Helena against her with her back to the armrest, and Helena tucked comfortably against her front.

And despite her cozy new station against Myka, Helena paid rapt attention to Pete's delivery of the very complex storyline, nodding her comprehension when Pete finished a rather lengthy rant (which had digressed on several occasions) and asked if she had "kept up." When the film began to play, however, Helena frowned deeply and cocked her head to the left in bemusement.

"Episode IV?" She questioned. "I fail to understand why we are not beginning at the beginning," she declared, her voice the sheer embodiment of annoyance.

"Because," Pete sighed, exasperated as his thumb jammed against the 'pause' button of the remote that he had battled Claudia for possession of – to Steve's great suffering, as he had been quite literally hauled between the two prior to the scuffle. "This is the first _Star Wars _movie that George Lucas filmed. He's the director," he expanded, upon receiving a blank stare from Helena at the name.

"But why ever would they begin in the heart of the saga?" Helena inquired, soothed only mildly by the low chuckle that Myka breathed into her ear. "It's simply irrational!"

"That's what I said," Myka puffed her agreement. "See, Pete!" She proclaimed triumphantly. "It's _not_ a stupid question!"

"Because it's the first in the original trilogy!" Pete emphatically overrode her. "Jeez, you and Myka just have no appreciation for – "

"I have a rather resilient _appreciation_ for numbers, Agent Lattimer," Helena interrupted to share, and some of her words melted together in testament to what she now realized had been entirely too much tequila. "And despite my present state, I remain reasonably certain that one precedes four," she announced conclusively.

"Aw, sweet!" Claudia exclaimed abruptly, scrambling from her position directly in front of the television to drape her arms over the edge of the loveseat and rest her chin atop them as she regarded HG with a look of incredulity painted in her eyes. "You're drunk! Mykes, she's drunk!" And Claudia looked absolutely thrilled by that concept, for reasons that Helena couldn't possibly have speculated on in her condition.

"I know," Myka laughed softly. "It's… sweet," she eventually decided, but Helena could hear in Myka's tone that the word she'd really wanted to employ had been 'cute,' and Helena smirked her small victory to the floor.

"That'd be the tequila, sweetheart," Savannah grinned satisfactorily with an unconcealed wink in Claudia's direction from her curled post at the corner of the larger sofa that sat perpendicular to theirs. "And how was I to know that H.G. Wells couldn't hold her liquor?" She added, feigned innocence coating every contour of her expression.

"No way! Dude!" Claudia rounded to face Myka's cousin. "You're my _hero_! Like, slap a cape on and I'll hereby deem you magical!"

Helena made to impress her disdain for Savannah's remark as the young brunette's laughter pealed through her lips, but Myka chuckled and playfully tightened her fingers over Helena's sides. "Grant her a kindness, hm?" She reiterated Helena's words from earlier in the evening, her voice a teasing whisper of warmth that lingered beneath Helena's ear. And then, as though the taunt had never been there, Myka crooned sympathetically, "It's not like she gets to meet and intoxicate H.G. Wells every day, honey."

Helena hummed, because, truly, she'd mostly forgotten about the younger woman's quip the moment that she had felt Myka's touch at her waist, and at Myka's fond use of Helena's favored endearment, she found herself incapable of voicing any objections at all to anything regarding her present situation; she was quite content reclined in Myka's embrace, and the fuzzy heat that the alcohol had provided only left her desiring more of Myka's affections, so she burrowed deeper into her lover, and decisively took hold of Myka's wrists to snugly ring her partner's arms around her stomach.

"So freakin' precious. I could just eat you two up. _Chomp, chomp, chomp, chomp,_" Claudia grinned, and promptly scurried back to the television before Helena could enact her rapid desire to whack the red from Claudia's hair.

"Let's just…. watch the movie," Steve suggested warily, and Helena was sure that he had taken note of Helena's halfheartedly lethal intent.

"Finally!" Pete exclaimed eagerly, smashing the 'play' button to resume the film that he had paused in order to answer a question, which, Helena was certain, Pete thought to be inane – or, at least, he would… but Helena wasn't entirely sure that he knew the definition of the word, so perhaps he just thought her inquiries silly.

And Helena rolled her eyes at the inanities that her own mind had just produced. She'd never truly been suited for the stronger spirits, preferring to indulge in a glass of wine or, on special occasions, a sparkling flute of champagne, and she mentally applauded herself for her ever improving executive decisions, because _clearly_ (and Helena audibly huffed at the thought) she had no business imbibing that much tequila.

"Is something wrong?" Myka queried softly at the upset noise, carding her fingers through Helena's hair and lovingly folding it behind her ear.

"No, darling," Helena sighed quietly. "My thoughts are running away from me, I think. Would you…?"

"What is it, Helena?" And though Helena couldn't see her lover's face, she could hear in the tone of Myka's voice that she was concerned.

"Just hold me here, Myka," Helena murmured, and though a vague corner of her mind lifted a haughty eyebrow and frowned at the inebriated plea, the rest of her felt needy and affectionate, and the touches of arousal that had been flickering on-and-off all evening felt decidedly _off_, because all she wanted was to feel Myka's tenderness in the brush of her fingers, and to feel her partner's love in the protective swathe of Myka's arms around her waist. "Don't let go, darling," she whispered gently, catching Myka's wrist in her palm and drawing it to her mouth for a caring kiss that lingered on Myka's flesh, before artfully replacing it to its former position just beneath her ribs. "I find myself in a rather sentimental mood, I'm afraid."

"I like it," Myka replied affectionately, smiling against her ear before slanting a sweet kiss against the juncture of Helena's neck and shoulder and nuzzling into Helena's hair with her nose, and Helena sighed her absolute gratification.

It took another hour for the room's occupants to settle in comfortably enough to get through a decent scene without having to rewind the movie. Pete had cried out five minutes in that he'd forgotten the popcorn, and while he bolted to the kitchen to remedy his mistake (prompting a rewind), Claudia tinkered with something on her computer that occupied her through one of her favorite parts (prompting a second rewind), and Savannah – well, Savannah kept a running commentary of the entire film, which Helena found most entertaining (and that prompted several rewinds). Helena's amusement, in conjunction with Savannah's, had extracted several humored looks of fondness from Myka (which Helena internally basked in), and a few chuckles from Steve, not to mention the violent hushing of "shh!" noises that indicated Pete and Claudia's discontent (which Helena breezily thought they deserved, because wasn't it _always_ the two of them who were disrupting her _every_ enjoyable moment with Myka?).

And an hour after things had calmed, Helena blearily widened aching eyes, grumbling her immense dissatisfaction into Myka's chest, and internally condemning the loud, impassioned noise that had awoken her to the fieriest depths of hell.

"Pete!" She heard Myka hiss admonishingly. "I _know_ that it's _Star Wars_, okay? But she's drunk and it's late, and she's allowed to sleep."

"Though evidently it is impermissible to remain in such a state," Helena lifted her head, and even with her eyes squinted, her scowl was remarkably discernable.

Pete winced.

"Knew she was defiant," Savannah grinned, vindicated. And then she promptly yawned.

"Honey," Myka cooed, and the love in her voice had Helena fighting off the woozy sleep that was adamantly summoning her into darkness, because she always yearned for more of _that_ emotion from Myka Bering, "can I take you to bed?"

"Any time you like, darling," emerged Helena's automatic reply, and even through her alcohol-induced haze, she could hear the seductive lilt to her words, and she laughed, because she was simply too tired for any sort of seduction at all. Though, if Myka offered, she could probably have mustered a little energy…

"Incorrigible," Myka husked over a chortle. "Come on," she said softly, easing Helena upward until she could slip from behind her, and Helena smiled obliquely when Myka stretched her hands out in a silent request for Helena to place hers within them. She complied, and allowed Myka to pull her up, though her movements when standing upright were categorically uncoordinated and sluggish. "Let's get you and Savannah to sleep, okay?"

Helena pouted theatrically. "I have no desire to sleep with your cousin, darling. I wish to sleep with you."

Claudia simply exploded with laughter, and Helena frowned, because she didn't quite understand the humor in the matter at all, but she swiftly found that she didn't much care.

"Way to kill my ego and spirit, Wells," Savannah sighed histrionically.

"It's okay, Baby Bering," Pete patted her shoulder sympathetically. "Nobody gets HG lovin' like Myka does."

"My name isn't actually Bering, you know?" Savannah lifted her brows, though Helena was pretty sure that she seemed a little proud of the moniker, and, even drunk as she was, she could sense Savannah's fierce admiration of her cousin.

"Works better for the alliteration," Steve grinned.

Some more conversation happened, Helena was sure, but she was busy sighing into Myka's neck as her lover soothed her back with gentle strokes of meaningless patterns, and the motion was lulling her need for sleep back to the surface.

"Savannah," Myka intoned quietly, "it's time for bed."

And, though Savannah was a grown woman, she slumped her shoulders as though she were actually a child and reluctantly muttered, "Fine. But you have to read to me, because I don't know if I can sleep yet."

"Will you be reading me to bed, as well, my love?" Helena lifted her head to regard Myka with hopeful eyes, and she vibrated with satisfaction when Myka brushed cool fingers over her heated cheeks.

"If you want," Myka indulged, with a small and radiant smile that was built on a foundation of intense adoration.

"That would be lovely," Helena decided, nodding. Then she turned. "Come, darling," she beckoned over her shoulder. "Bed is up there," she said, gesturing with her index finger toward the ceiling with an off-kilter grin.

"She is _not _gonna be happy in the morning," Claudia said, shaking her head. "Nope. Not happy at all. But so worth it for the video I just took!"

Though Helena heard her (and heard Pete and Steve quickly clamoring over to view said video), she merely rolled her eyes, now determined to make it to her bed – or Myka's; she wasn't choosy, as long as Myka would lie with her – and she blithely dismissed Claudia's remark, electing to revisit it tomorrow.

Myka's hands warmed against her back as her lover guided her up the stairs, whispering a small, "I'm sorry," and something about not wanting Helena to fall, but Helena enjoyed the touch far too much to feel patronized by it, so she ignored Myka's apology and continued her ascent, Savannah trailing not far behind them.

Not long after, Myka had helped Helena change into more suitable nightwear, and neatly tucked her into bed. Myka sat beside her, legs crossed, until Savannah meandered in from her own room (having brushed her teeth and changed, as well), and the younger woman duly placed her head in Myka's lap after handing her a copy of _War of the Worlds_.

Helena grinned at the selection, and Savannah shrugged nonchalantly with a wide smile, "I thought it was fitting, what with you being H.G. Wells and all. I still can't get over that."

"It gets easier," Myka promised.

And ten minutes later – after processing no more than two lines of the words that Myka had read aloud in that soft, profound voice that Helena simply treasured – Helena was asleep, curled into Myka's side with the agent's nails scraping delicately over her scalp, across from an only slightly more awake Savannah, who was listening hard to Myka's words as they sifted through her ears.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ I just had this adorable drunken image of Helena that I couldn't shake, and I don't really intend to have her intoxicated very often (as it's not really in her character - or anyone else's, honestly, except Savannah's), I latched onto the opportunity. The chapter (to me, at least) is a bit dazed, but as the story is essentially from Helena's perspective, it seemed fitting for it not to be entirely clear on all of the details while she was inebriated. Let me know what you think, as always! Also, I'm sorry this chapter was a bit more delayed than usual.


	24. Chapter 24

Her mouth was dry. _Fuzzy_ and dry, and Helena was simply parched. But Helena thought to amend that assertion, because there was nothing simple about it; satisfying that particular need implied ambulatory movement, and Helena was certain that motion was outside of her present skill set.

She couldn't open her eyes. She felt weak, and her eyelids were heavy, and she was sure that if she cracked them open, the sun would be glowing optimistically (_appallingly_, in Helena's opinion) through the window of Myka's room – and she knew it was Myka's room, because the scent of her lover lingered _everywhere_, and it offered Helena more comfort than anyone in such a hungover state should be permitted, but she wasn't about to challenge it.

"There's water on the nightstand," she heard, and felt Myka's chest shift beneath her face as the words were spoken.

"Darling," Helena sighed, tightening her fingers over Myka's hip in a gesture that expressed more gratitude than Helena's vocabulary was currently able to relay, "you're such a marvelous creature."

Myka chuckled sleepily, and Helena felt her partner's hand rise to filter slender fingers through her hair. "How are you feeling?"

Helena rolled her eyes even from beneath lowered lids, but she fought to widen them when Myka's sweet motions proved to be holding the ache in her head at bay. "Dreadful," Helena complained. "Which is no less than I deserve, of course."

Myka hummed softly. "There's aspirin over there, too," she shared with a small, sympathetic smile. "And a warm washcloth."

"I imagine that might be a bit cool if it's been left to sit throughout the evening," Helena said, amused at her lover's oversight.

"It hasn't," Myka sighed tiredly, shaking her head. "Savannah's been having nightmares all night. The last one was about half an hour ago. The heat helps her get back to sleep," Myka explained, and Helena could abruptly hear the pure exhaustion in Myka's voice.

"Oh, darling," Helena tendered gently, lifting her chin – with more effort than should ever be required – in order to prop it over Myka's heart, "You may rest longer, if you wish; I'm sorry to have woken you again."

"You didn't," Myka assured. "I've been up most of the night," she offered with a shrug.

Helena made a small noise of discontent. "With the nightmares, I imagine," she frowned.

"That… And it was sort of… cramped," Myka decided after a moment's pause.

Helena's head tilted to the side with her confusion, but Myka turned her gaze to her left, and when Helena's eyes tracked the movement, she curiously found Savannah's dark head to be resting against her lover's shoulder.

She lifted a brow in amusement. "And here I was under the impression that I was the only woman granted the privilege of sharing your bed," Helena teased.

"It's your fault," Myka said, sweeping her hands up to the back of Helena's thighs and offering a playful squeeze.

"Oh?" Helena inquired. She could recall most of the evening, but she couldn't quite remember their voyage upstairs, and mostly all that remained was Myka's voice hushing her into sleep.

"Mm," Myka hummed her confirmation. "Savannah wanted me to read to her before she went to bed, and you decided you wanted to listen in. But Savannah fell asleep not long after you, and I didn't want to wake either of you, so…"

"So you allowed the two of us to employ you as a cushion?" Helena asked softly.

"She hadn't slept in two days," Myka justified. "And you smacked me with a pillow when I got up earlier to fill that glass of water, so it's a good thing I didn't try to wake you any sooner."

"I have no recollection of that, darling," Helena informed, apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Myka smiled forgivingly, though it was easy and quick, and Helena marveled at the wonder that was Myka Bering.

"Does this happen often in Savannah's attendance?" Helena asked, gesturing briefly toward Savannah's position against Myka before she leaned up to grasp for the aspirin and the glass of water that her lover had so thoughtfully retrieved for her.

"It did when she was a kid," Myka laughed quietly. "I called her a bedbug once, and she thought it was the funniest thing. But, you know…" Myka said, grinning, "she was only seven."

"I confess, I did wonder why you called her a 'bug,'" Helena mused, curling into Myka's side.

"Mm," Myka nodded, lifting her arm so that Helena could be more comfortably tucked against her. "I read to her most nights I'm with her, so she normally falls asleep in her own bed, but every now and then I'll wake up while she's crawling into mine. She doesn't like to talk about it. I think she just likes the company."

"She does," an abrupt grumble emerged from Myka's opposite shoulder. "You know what else she likes? _Sleep. _Don't care if the voice is soft and British. I'm _sleeping_ now. There should be _no voicing_."

"Your hatred for mornings appears to have some genetic origin, darling," Helena declared, amused.

Myka laughed. "Savannah normally likes mornings," she divulged. "But she didn't sleep much, or very well, so she's a little grumpy," Myka finished affectionately, shifting one hand to soothe over Savannah's back.

Savannah, despite her ill temper, sighed drowsily at the touch and murmured, "Love you, Mykey."

"You too, bug," Myka said, and whispered a kiss over the top of the young woman's head. "Get some sleep, okay?"

"'Kay," Savannah agreed groggily, flopping onto her other side and thus freeing Myka's shoulder.

"I need to call Artie and see if he found Braid's manuscript," Myka shared quietly, several moments later. Helena suspected that she had been waiting to speak until the soft sighs of Savannah's sleep had touched her ears. "And I need some coffee before that," Myka added.

"Would you like me to accompany you, love?" Helena offered.

"If you want," Myka smiled gently. "But if you want to stay in bed for a while, that's fine, too. You can't be feeling too great."

"Just a quick shower, darling," Helena dismissed, lowering her mouth to press a loving kiss to Myka's. "And I'll join you downstairs, hm?"

"Okay," Myka muttered, though her one hand clenched tighter over Helena's side, and the other rose to cradle her cheek before Myka leaned upward to steal another kiss. "I love you, Helena," she said sincerely.

"My darling Myka," Helena breathed, brushing her lips over her lover's forehead, "I love you, as well."

With a heavy sigh that spoke of Myka's trepidation and exhaustion, Myka said softly, "I'll see you in a little while."

"Indeed you will, my love," Helena assured, dropping one reassuring kiss lightly against Myka's lips, and proffering an encouraging glance before Myka shifted from the bed to make her way through the door.

* * *

Helena was worried. Myka had just spoken with Artie (who was, of course, at the Warehouse in spite of the fact that it was barely past six in the morning – a fact which Helena scoffed at), and the cantankerous man had informed her that the manuscript was in the Warehouse aisles, but the accompanying blank pages were not. Or, if they were, they were not where they should be.

Myka had taken that information much better than she had taken the news about Braid's manuscript when speaking with Artie the previous evening, but Helena wasn't sure if that was due to some deep psychological searching, or if Myka was masking an emotion that she didn't want to reveal.

Helena knew, and had now seen how greatly Myka cared for Savannah, and Myka was right to be worried for her. But Helena's primary concern was Myka, and she wasn't quite sure how to broach the subject without upsetting her partner.

"I'm okay, Helena," Myka told her, interrupting Helena's thoughts from her seat at the small table, where her mouth dipped over a mug of coffee.

"I had not voiced otherwise," Helena said, lifting her cup of tea and carrying it to sit beside her lover.

"But you were thinking it," Myka replied knowingly.

Helena sighed, and reached over to cover Myka's thigh with her free palm. "Myka, darling, this is a very difficult situation. I merely wish that it was a circumstance you needn't suffer through."

Myka nodded thoughtfully. It took a moment before she spoke again, but her voice was soft when she said, "Helena, I reacted badly when I found out about the manuscript… and I reacted worse when I found out about Nero's bow. But I have a tendency to behave poorly where Savannah is involved. When she was six, I punched a kid on the playground because he shoved her out of his way," Myka deadpanned.

And Helena laughed, purely enchanted, because her Myka was precisely the sort of woman who would defend her smaller cousin in such a violent manner.

"But I know that being angry isn't going to help her," Myka continued with a small, lingering smile. "I'm not saying that it won't come up again, because the idea of anyone hurting her just… it makes my insides _boil_, Helena," Myka said venomously, but then took a long, deep breath, and a moment to collect herself. "But right now, Savannah's scared, and she's being introduced to a world of things that don't make sense to her, yet. She needs me to be the calm one," Myka shrugged. "And if I want to find out who's been doing this to her, then I need to be smart about it."

"I suppose you're correct," Helena considered. "However, in the event that you feel the need to be stupid about it, instead," she jested, and allowed herself to absorb Myka's small laugh before she continued, "you must know that you can speak with me. I will be whatever you need, Myka. I will be angry for you, if it comforts you, in the times where you cannot allow yourself that emotion."

"Helena – " Myka began breathily.

"No," Helena shook her head, and delicately set her tea onto the saucer, shifting to sit sideways in her chair and face her lover. "The moments that I've shared with you since my return to the Warehouse have been delightful, and enlightening, and for the first time in over a century, I find myself _happy_. Because of you, Myka," Helena lifted her hand to hold Myka's cheek in her palm. "Because of your love, and your faith, and the trust that you impart with me, despite that I have earned none of those things from you. And if ever I can repay any of that… Darling, I am more than pleased to accommodate in any manner that I am able."

"Repay?" Myka inquired on a murmur, and then swiftly shook her head. "Helena, my love, and my faith, and my trust – those aren't things that you're obligated to return," she frowned. "I just… feel them. I feel them a lot, and I feel them strong and… and hot inside me, if you can make that make any sense at all," Myka laughed nervously and looked downward, but when she raised her eyes again, they were bristling with emotion. "You are brilliant, Helena – beautiful, and sweet, and intelligent, and… just _everything_ that I need, all at once. I've told you before… You don't owe me anything. You have no idea how much you've already given me."

"Nothing, in comparison to how much you've granted me, Myka," Helena whispered expressively.

Myka leaned her face into Helena's touch, and brought her hand up to hold the one that pressed into her cheek. She then leaned forward and touched her forehead against Helena's, and asked gently, "Can't we just be even? Because I'm happy, too, Helena. I'm so happy with you, in spite of everything that's happening with Savannah, and I've never been so happy. So, can't we just be even?"

"Even?" Helena feigned a frown. "But I do so enjoy emerging the victor, darling," she pouted.

Myka laughed softly and tilted her chin upward, brushing their mouths together in a kiss that was soft, and slow, and –

Interrupted.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Pete greeted cheerfully. "Wanna pre-breakfast snack?" He asked, tugging at the refrigerator door and stooping over to poke his head inside. "It's too early for breakfast," he lamented, with a slight frown, "so I'm gonna pick at something that's not as good and go back to bed for a couple hours."

Helena scowled at him, and it was a wonder that Pete didn't shrivel beneath the sheer intensity and heat of it, because she could recall no other occasion that had inspired this much frustration with the goofy man.

"Hey, Pete?" Myka said, tucking her lips between her teeth briefly to hide her amusement.

"What's up, Mykes?" He asked as he turned around, a Go-Gurt held in one hand and a slice of pizza that was _God-knows-how-old_ in the other.

"You're about five seconds from having your face smashed into the table," Myka disclosed with wide eyes, casting a sympathetic look in his direction. "Do you think you could give us a few minutes?"

"Uh… Yup!" He agreed quickly, finally latching his gaze onto Helena's corresponding one of fury. "Sure thing. HG, I'm _super_ sorry. But I'm not ready to die today, so just give me two seconds and – I'm just… I'm going! Find me later, Mykes, and tell me what's going on with Savannah."

"I will," Myka promised, and offered him a small wave before he moved through the threshold.

Helena's lips parted to speak, but Myka covered them with her own, tangling her fingers tightly into Helena's hair and scraping her teeth over Helena's bottom lip. This kiss was neither soft, nor slow, and – to Helena's great satisfaction – it was _not _interrupted.

Really, was this too much to ask for? A mere moment of uninterrupted time to lather passion over the woman she loved? Surely she wasn't asking for much…

* * *

_Author's Note:_ Next chapter will have some more plot-like things, but I think this chapter was important. I'm twenty-four chapters into this story, and I've spent so much time on it... Even I forget sometimes that Helena and Myka have only actually been seeing each other "officially" for less than a week. I tried to integrate a little of this with their cuddling discussion a few chapters ago, but despite their long friendship, they don't know _everything_ about how their relationship works, just yet.

Please review!


	25. Chapter 25

_Author's Note:_ Serious HG/Claudia bonding up ahead. (Almost said bondage... And wouldn't that just be awkward?) Enjoy! And please, please review!

* * *

When Savannah had awoken some hours later, she had marched into Myka's room and demanded to know where the apple juice was stored. Helena had been rather startled, but upon being told that there was no apple juice at the bed and breakfast, Savannah had adamantly insisted that she required it for her _survival_ (which Helena had promptly rolled her eyes at), but Myka quickly promised that she would take Savannah to the store after she'd taken a shower.

Myka then informed Helena that Savannah had favored warmed apple juice since childhood. Helena suspected it was a comfort for the young woman, so despite that it was an odd thing to crave, she was pleased that Myka could offer Savannah something soothing after the countless abrupt turns that her life had taken over the past several days.

Twenty minutes later, Helena had kissed Myka in the driveway and kindly declined the ensuing invitation to join them. Myka hadn't been able to spend much time alone with her cousin thus far, and Helena couldn't quite name why, but she was sure that they both would benefit from each other's company for a while.

In their absence, Helena elected to stop by the Warehouse. She had little else to do, honestly, and she was sure that there was some work to be done at the Warehouse that could occupy her until Myka's return. She passed Artie on her way in, detecting swiftly from the purple bags beneath his eyes that he had not been to sleep the previous night, and that he was most probably headed for a shower and some much needed rest.

With his exit, Helena had expected to find his office to be vacant. Instead, however, she found a suspiciously silent Claudia – and even more suspiciously, she was nearly immobile, staring absently out through the window that opened to the Warehouse aisles from the small couch against the wall.

"Claudia?" Helena drew her attention softly.

The girl leaped into the air and covered a hand over her heart. "Freakin' kill me, why don't ya?" She hissed, startled, and quickly resumed her position at the loveseat – though she opened her laptop and made an enthusiastic attempt to appear as though she'd been quite busy.

Helena arched a brow upward, partly amused, but mostly concerned. "Are you alright, love?"

"Me? Yeah! Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be? Everything's peachy over here. All rainbows and butterflies and… you know, stuff…" Claudia rambled, but she trailed off at the end as though she knew that her reassurance had been less than impressive.

"Indeed," Helena replied dubiously.

Claudia huffed as her fingers stilled. "The Warehouse is acting weird," she confessed quietly, refusing to meet Helena's gaze and focusing on her screen, instead.

"Oh?" Helena inquired, taking a seat beside the redheaded girl and resting her elbows against her knees as she attentively leaned forward.

"Yeah," Claudia confirmed. "Something's wrong. It's been zapping me all morning," she scowled suddenly, and looked at the window again, as though directing her disgruntlement directly to the heart of the temperamental structure. "Not cool, man!" She called out to it agitatedly.

"I presume that the Warehouse has not stooped so low as to guide you to the problem?" Helena queried dryly.

"Does it ever?" Claudia deadpanned.

Helena chuckled. "Rarely," she admitted.

Claudia sighed and ruffled a hand through her hair. "All I know is that it isn't happy. Like, _real_ not happy," she emphasized. "I'm getting all kinds of red emotions. And I don't mean the lovey-dovey passionate kind, I mean Angry Bird red kinds," she attempted to elaborate, but then rolled her eyes at herself. "Not that you know what that means, or anything…"

"I actually have played that one," Helena declared proudly, but then she frowned. "Silly little game, isn't it?"

"Don't knock the Angry Birds, dude," Claudia rebuked.

"The Warehouse is angry, then?" Helena offered, biting her tongue to stifle a rather heated debate against the tiresome 'app' that had occupied so much of Nathan's interest in Wisconsin.

"Big time," Claudia puffed, giving up the pretense of work and collapsing against the back of the sofa. Her head lolled to the side, and Helena observed as she anxiously bit her lip, as though she were trying to search for an answer to an internal dilemma.

Helena remained silent while the girl worked through her thoughts. Fortunately, Claudia decided to share them with her.

"I think it has something to do with Myka," she muttered weakly.

Helena could feel her back grow rigid, powerless against the tension that abruptly stiffened in her muscles.

"No, no!" Claudia was quick to assure. "I don't think she's the problem!"

"What gave you the impression that Myka has anything to do with the Warehouse's anger at all?" Helena asked, though she had to take a moment to be sure that her tone did not reflect the anxiety that had descended upon her at Claudia confession.

Claudia shrugged, embarrassed. "I just know."

"You just – " Helena shorted herself and scraped a hand through her hair, futilely attempting to calm her nerves. "Right. Future Caretaker 'vibes,' as Pete would say, yes?"

"Something like that," Claudia murmured. "The Warehouse has been bringing me her stuff."

"Pardon?" Helena's brow lifted.

"Dude, I don't know how it works, okay?" Claudia exclaimed defensively, throwing her arms up in frustration. "It just gets all windy, and _wham!_ Myka's jacket flies in my face. Then her favorite pen, and her Warehouse manual – which, by the way, was a terrible experience, because… _Ow_!" She pouted and rubbed the back of her head, where, Helena assumed, Myka's manual had made contact.

"She really oughtn't leave her possessions in the Warehouse," Helena mumbled absently, though her mind raced through various possibilities for why the Warehouse would deem it fit to do such a thing.

"Dude, seriously?" Claudia demanded. "That's the moral you're taking from this story? 'Don't leave your crap in the Warehouse?' Sure. Okay. But, me, personally? I'm pretty sure I'm gonna tack 'wear a freakin' helmet, or perish at your own risk' onto the front door."

"I'm sorry, darling," Helena sighed repentantly, and reached to tenderly tuck Claudia's neck down so that she could get a proper look at her head. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Claudia frowned, but nodded. "Just _really annoyed!_" She shouted to the Warehouse again. "Why can't it just tell me what it freakin' wants? I'm not even Caretaker, yet!"

"I imagine it's a bit simpler to interact with you, as you're already here," Helena said, and, after assessing that Claudia's skull was a bit bruised but otherwise unharmed, she lifted the girl's chin from her chest and pressed a brief kiss to her forehead. "I also imagine it's quite stressful," she murmured sympathetically.

"You have no freakin' idea," Claudia conceded. "I just… Myka's got enough to deal with right now, what with the bow, and the manuscript, and Savannah… She's pretty cool, though, right? Savannah, I mean – not Myka. She's already cool," the girl rambled fretfully.

"Savannah is lovely," Helena agreed, and then offered a weak smile before she continued. "And Myka is resilient," she comforted. "She may require our assistance with the artifacts, but emotionally… Myka's heart sees no end. I'm certain that she can handle the pressure. And the feelings which she cannot handle, I shall handle for her."

"It doesn't really work that way, y'know?" Claudia asked, though she proffered a wide smile for the sentiment.

"You might be surprised what a decent intimate encounter can do for one's emotions, darling," Helena grinned audaciously.

"Oh, ew!" Claudia said, dramatically covering her ears. But she swiftly pulled them down, and asserted, "You don't have to share _every_ dirty detail that pops into that genius head of yours, HG."

"I find it serves rather well to diffuse tension," Helena shrugged effortlessly.

"But still…" Claudia whined. "I'm scarred with lesbian thoughts for _life_, dude."

"I'd hardly consider it an injury," Helena dismissed. "It simply… expands your options."

Claudia blinked once, and then twice, and followed with a nervous laugh. "Dude, I'm straight. I think. I mean, I don't have racy thoughts about any girls that I know about."

"Straight?" Helena frowned.

"Uh… It's what they call people who prefer boys… Well, girls who prefer boys," Claudia stumbled. "Or, you know, heterosexual people or… whatever."

"What a narrow-minded way to think," Helena scoffed. "Claudia, darling, attraction is simply attraction. A person's sex has little influence over chemistry."

"Y'know, I'm getting all twitchy with this topic, so I'm gonna veer us backward and say, 'Hey! The Warehouse wants to have a chat with Mykes! What are we gonna do about that?'" Claudia theatrically cried.

Helena rolled her eyes, but nodded her assent to the subject change, and thoughtfully said, "I find the easiest way to appease the Warehouse is to present to it that which it desires."

"Oh, gee, why couldn't _I_ have thought of a fancy British way to say, 'give it what it wants?'" Claudia replied, her every word saturated with sarcasm.

"Your mockery is ill-received," Helena chided with a minute glare. "I merely mean that it might be best to observe Myka upon her next visit to the Warehouse, and perhaps take a few more precautions than we are accustomed to. In my experience, the Warehouse rarely intends harm, except to those with intent to harm _it_, love."

"Yeah, but… aren't you a little… y'know, worried?" Claudia asked meekly.

"My concerns for Myka's safety have proven to be infinite in number," Helena acknowledged with a sigh. "But keeping her from the Warehouse simply isn't an option, and you seem quite certain that the Warehouse isn't upset with her. Perhaps the Warehouse wants her help," she speculated.

"Yeah, but why _her_?" Claudia spewed. "I mean, not that Myka isn't great and all, and I love her tons, but now really isn't the best time to be singling her out."

"No," Helena agreed. "But it seems increasingly likely that whatever the Warehouse wants from her deals with all that's already been set in motion."

"Like, it has to do with Savannah?" Claudia paled. "Dude, Mykes is gonna _freak_."

"Mm," Helena hummed her consensus, but then stood. "We shan't dwell on the matter any longer. Myka has taken Savannah to Univille, for the time being, so we shall resume this discussion upon her return. Until then, I have a gift for you."

"_Finally!_" Claudia breathed eagerly. "I've been waiting _forever!_ I mean, I know you and Mykes have been gettin' your groove on or whatever, but, seriously, HG – me and patience? Not close friends. Not even acquaintances. I don't even pass that dude in the hall."

"I suspect, then, that you might wish to control your tongue long enough for me to guide you to it," Helena advised with a pleased smirk.

"I can multitask," Claudia shrugged, but allowed Helena to lead her down the steps and into the Warehouse library, where she had stored Claudia's present for safekeeping while she managed the last several adjustments.

Helena moved to the workbench that had unofficially been named hers, and (with several knocks and twists as a makeshift combination) she slid the bottom drawer open and presented Claudia with a rosewood box.

"So excited!" Claudia exuberantly proclaimed, and proceeded to all but snatch the box from Helena's palms.

"Gentle, darling," Helena cautioned. "It's a bit touchy."

She waited while Claudia peered inside the box, and snorted at the wide-eyed glee that the diminutive woman expressed.

"A gun? Sweet! What's it do?"

Helena lifted her brow imperiously. "It shoots things, love."

"Duh," Claudia rolled her eyes. "But _you_ made it, so that means it's special, right? So… what does it do?" She pressed impatiently.

"It's unique in its kind, yes," Helena verified. "It disassembles."

"Like, breaks stuff down?" Claudia inquired, lifting the off-looking weapon from its case and wielding it with a flourish, directing it toward Helena's desk.

Helena reached out to lower Claudia's arm tolerantly. "Essentially, yes. It has a dial here," she said, gesturing toward the mentioned knob, "that determines how thoroughly it does so. It can break items down to its parts, which I rather thought might be useful in your more creative Warehouse innovations – that's level one, darling," she instructed, demonstrating with a twist of the dial. "Level two is more specific to the individual parts of an object. Something like ah – a car will do, as an example; level two would allow you to disassemble the radio, as opposed to the entire vehicle. The notch on the opposite side," Helena fingered the button as she spoke of it, "dictates the size of the area you wish to focus. And the third level – a personal favorite of mine," she disclosed with a wink and a broad grin, "strips the target to its molecular level. It will work on humans, though, darling, so do be careful, hm?"

"Dude! This is like… the coolest gift _ever_!" Claudia spluttered. "Seriously, HG, this is _amazing_, even for you!" And then Claudia lunged forward to hug her, and with a slight, 'ooph' of surprise, Helena laughed and returned the gesture. "Thank you," Claudia whispered sincerely into Helena's ear, before rapidly detaching and fiddling embarrassedly with her new toy.

"Yes, well, I've noticed you often seem to be without a Tesla during your fieldwork. I do worry for your welfare, love, and am of the strong opinion that you have need for some protection. Our work can be quite dangerous in nature," Helena declared gently.

Irritating though the girl made habit to be, she was very dear to Helena's heart.

"HG," Claudia grinned, embarrassment faded as she jibed at the Victorian, "you're such a big _softy_."

"So I've been told," Helena replied dryly.

She really needed to do some research; that word obviously necessitated a definition.


	26. Chapter 26

_Author's Note: _We're going to get into some more plot-like things next chapter, but this one's mostly just filler. With some fluffly sweetness, because I just love it so much. Please review, guys.

* * *

Helena had driven Claudia back to the bed and breakfast not long after she had presented Claudia with her gift. Claudia had absently noted in the car that the Warehouse still felt angry (furious, even), but that the bothered feeling in her gut that told her that the building desired Myka's presence had faded upon their exit. Claudia was quick to inform that the want had not been squashed, according to her 'feeling,' but it was significantly diminished in their absence.

As of now, Helena could merely speculate on why that could be, and her speculations were few in number. She hadn't ever known the Warehouse to behave in such a manner. However, the idea that more stress was about to fall on her lover's shoulders had her quickly determining to be at the inn when Myka arrived back to it.

But before they went inside, Claudia was determined to utilize her new toy, so Helena patiently leaned up against the side of her SUV and observed with a vigilant eye.

"What happens if you try to disassemble something not in parts?" Claudia mused.

"Everything has parts," Helena replied sagely. "Though, if the gun has been set to a level that does not coincide with an object's properties, I've found that there's often a combustive effect."

"No way! It blows stuff up?" Claudia bounced eagerly. "So, like, if I shot the sand…?"

"Best aim it over there, darling," Helena supposed, gesturing toward the barren bits of land that stretched away from the inn. "Level one will do nicely, I imagine."

She'd tampered with that particular gadget enough to know that distance was probably safest – at least while Claudia experimented and became comfortable handling the device.

While Claudia fiddled with the dial, Helena turned as she heard Savannah's truck rumble down the driveway. She raised her brow at the loud thumping that vibrated from the vehicle, and couldn't help a smile when Myka emerged from the driver's seat and offered Helena a frustrated roll of her eyes.

"Hello, darling," Helena greeted.

"Normal human company," Myka sighed, relieved. "How nice."

"I resent that!" Savannah shouted over the drumming noise from the car's speakers. "I'm normal, mostly! And admit it – you missed me, Mykey," she insisted.

"Turn it _off_, Savannah," Myka ordered, though fond exasperation seeped through her words, and Helena was certain that Savannah was correct; Myka had missed her cousin dearly.

"Dude, no way!" Claudia hissed adamantly. "It's Powerman 5000! You can't just _turn it off_."

Savannah leaned over from the passenger seat and turned the radio down before she slid from the vehicle. "Could you get any hotter?" She eyed Claudia with a grin and a playful wink. "All gun-toting and sharing my taste in music," she muttered, shaking her head to herself. "A woman after my own heart."

Claudia blushed beet red. "Why does everyone keep lesbian-ing me today?" She demanded. "Seriously! Straight!"

Helena laughed her amusement. "Be gentle with her, love," she advised Savannah. "She's had a trying morning."

Helena then shifted toward Myka to wrap her in a hug, and the soft sigh that breathed across her neck nearly undid her. Helena would never adjust to how easily this woman gave into her, or how she melted against Helena with every brushing touch. The evidence of Myka's love warmed her heart.

She pressed a kiss to her lover's temple, and murmured softly, "Did you have a nice time, darling?"

"Mm," Myka hummed tiredly. "But I'm drained. I might need a nap," she chuckled, embarrassed. "Savannah is just _exhausting_," she cast a teasing smile in her cousin's direction. "Also… Helena, why does Claudia have a gun?"

"It's my present!" Claudia declared excitedly. "Watch, Mykes! Ready?"

Claudia aimed the gun, and hollered a loud, "FIRE IN THE HOLE!" And when her finger pulled the trigger, Helena proudly esteemed the flame that shot up from the desert about a mile's distance away.

Myka blinked, but Savannah tossed her sunglasses to the top of her head with eyebrows that shot into her hairline. "Hot," Myka's cousin announced on a whisper. "_So _hot."

But her comment went ignored.

"Claudia!" Myka admonished.

"HG made it!" Claudia charged defensively, indicating Helena's frame with a reckless point of her gun. "But it's freakin' sweet, right?"

"Helena," Myka chided, though the inventor was pleased to note that her tone was decidedly gentler.

Savannah reached to lower Claudia's hand, and, consequently, her weapon, and dramatically whispered, "I think you should probably shy away from pointing that at people, sweetheart. Especially that one. It might've worked out okay for Myka to hold a gun on her, but I don't get the feeling she tolerates that from too many people."

Helena reverted her attentions back to Myka and made a minute attempt to mask her pleased smirk. Indeed, she did _not_ tolerate being held at gunpoint – Myka omitted, for obvious reasons.

"Oh, darling, she's having a bit of fun with a new plaything," Helena offered with a small smile. "Its actual purpose is to disassemble. The incineration is an unavoidable kink, I'm afraid. I have cautioned her to be watchful," she justified.

"Unavoidable kink?" Myka snorted. "The sand just caught _fire_, Helena. Artie's going to kill you, and then he's going to feed your chopped up pieces to Trailer for dinner."

"I'm certain that you would allow no such thing to occur," Helena soothed with a feathery kiss against her lover's cheek.

"Claude, please be _careful_. And don't let Artie see it," she added. "I like Helena a lot better when she's not dead," she finished dryly.

"Well, yeah…" Claudia mumbled, scratching her nose and clearly unsure if she'd managed to avoid getting into trouble.

"You would've flayed me alive if I tried that," Savannah huffed.

"You would never have had that thing to begin with, so whether I would've skinned you or not is a nonissue," Myka replied pointedly.

"Yeah, yeah," Savannah dismissed with a waving motion of her hand.

"Come, darling," Helena said, parting from Myka's embrace and touching a hand to the small of her back. "Claudia and I have a matter to discuss with you."

Myka groaned. "As much fun as that sounds," she remarked weakly, "do you think it can wait? I really need to lay down."

Helena frowned. "Are you alright, Myka?" She inquired caringly, pressing a tender hand against Myka's forehead. "You're warm, love."

"Just tired," Myka assured. "And a little bit of a headache, but nothing serious."

"She's been like that all morning," Savannah informed, striding away from Claudia's side and concernedly approaching Myka's, instead. "We should probably get her to bed, right?"

Helena agreed, but scrupulously evaluated her lover for any further indications of illness or injury. "You haven't been in contact with any artifacts since Chicago, yes?"

"Helena," Myka smiled warmly, "I'm fine. I just didn't sleep well, remember?"

"Mm," Helena hummed skeptically. "Then sleep you shall, darling," she decided. "Come. I'll lay with you, hm?"

"Yes, please," Myka breathed her gratification. "That sounds spectacular."

"She gets especially cuddly when she doesn't feel well," Savannah said. "You should probably prepare yourself for that. And you, honey…" she began, rounding on Claudia. "You keep that neat little trinket away from my truck," she finished strictly. "Mykey bought it for me and it's one of my favorite things. No blasting it to pieces, pretty please."

"Aye aye, Captain," Claudia replied, straightening her stance and offering a salute with a wide grin. "Gotta go play with the Farnsworth, anyway."

"Claudia, no," Myka denied the idea swiftly. "Artie _hates_ when you mess with the Farnsworth."

"Yeah, but – "

"No," Myka said again, firmly, sparing a withering glance in Claudia's direction.

"She means it, doll," Savannah told Claudia. "I know that tone. I've suffered it _way _too many times not to know what it means. Also, what's a Farnsworth?" Savannah asked, intrigue evident in her tone and the curious tilt of her head.

"Communication device," Myka explained briefly. "It's like FaceTime, pretty much, but the picture comes in black and white, and you can only contact other Farnsworths."

"She can right it when she's finished, my love," Helena endeavored. "If not by her own skill – in which I have the utmost confidence – then by the reassembling button at the base of the handle."

"Dude, what?" Claudia inquired, lifting the gun and finding the blue button that Helena spoke of. "Suh-weet," she chimed in a singsong voice. "_So_ much less work."

"You gave her a disassembling ray, and forgot to mention the reassembling button?" Myka arched her brow upward. "Helena," she said again, though the admonishment that filtered through her name indicated that no words were intended to follow.

"I've mentioned it just now, darling," Helena grinned abruptly.

"You're lucky you're so charming," Myka muttered and rolled her eyes, but she leaned into Helena again, and Helena could feel her body dip with exhaustion.

"I am privileged with many things, Myka," Helena whispered softly, breathing into Myka's hair. "My charm is a gift – but it pales in comparison to how fortunate I am to be graced with your affections."

"Sweet talker," Myka mumbled, but Helena could feel her mouth widen into a smile against her neck.

"I'm not all talk, you know," Helena replied fondly, reflexively tucking Myka's hair behind her ear.

Myka purred contentment against her flesh, and Helena had little doubt that her lover was recalling the same memory that she had played on with her response; their exchange was very similar to another, a week before, when Helena had fumbled over her words to express the profound emotions that she carried for the secret service agent so pliantly folded in her arms.

"You two are sickeningly sweet," Savannah derided, but Helena could see her mouth itching into a smile, so she refrained from voicing the diminishing retort that was hot on her tongue.

"I'll take the sweet and snuggly over the sex talk any day of the week," Claudia frowned. "HG just doesn't _stop_ with that crap."

"Like I need another reason to admire H.G. Wells," Savannah grinned, shaking her head.

Helena could feel Myka's eyelashes fluttering against her skin. "Let's get you to bed, darling," Helena said softly, guiding Myka through the door.

Claudia and Savannah parted to the living room after Savannah snagged the grocery bags from the car, while Helena ushered Myka up the stairs. She observed from her position against the wall as Myka moved to find a soft pair of shorts and a loose t-shirt, and when she'd changed into them, Helena could regard her with nothing but pure adoration.

Because Myka was adorable.

And when her lover fell into bed, Helena shifted to lie beside her. It was scarcely two seconds before Myka moved to rest her head overtop of Helena's breast, and she swung a leg over Helena's to bring herself fully against her. Then she draped her arm over Helena's waist, and hugged her side tightly.

Helena's brow lifted, because she had felt Myka cuddle (and she was rather fond of it), but this was of a different nature entirely. Helena felt a bit like prey to a serpent. It was simultaneously delicious and endearing.

"Sorry," Myka sighed, though she made no effort to move.

"Your apology is neither wanted nor warranted, darling," Helena soothed, her fingers drifting through curly locks of dark, glorious hair.

"I'm going to sleep now," Myka informed her quietly. "You can hit me or something if you need to move."

"I'm quite content where I am, my love," Helena whispered, brushing a kiss to the crown of Myka's head. "Sleep. I shall be here when you wake."

"Okay. Love you," Myka yawned blearily.

"And I, you, darling," Helena promised. "Always."


	27. Chapter 27

_Author's Note:_ So... I only really got to the beginning of the plot-like things. Oops. Fluff was calling to me.

* * *

Myka was still asleep.

It had been nearly ten hours, and the sun had fallen over the horizon three hours before. Helena was concerned, but she didn't wake her lover for lunch, or for dinner, hoping that Myka would feel rejuvenated when she finally did rise from bed. Claudia had brought up a couple plates for them, but she had frowned when she noted that Myka still had not awakened since her last visit around six.

"Dude," Claudia asked thoughtfully, shuffling her feet but managing to keep a firm grip on the tray of food that she carried, "is she okay?"

Helena sighed and shook her head, exhaustion creeping through. She hadn't done anything particularly strenuous throughout the day – and had, in fact, spent the majority of it lying still at Myka's side, with a book that she'd nicked from the nightstand – but her mind had been locked into a furious pace since Claudia's admission of the Warehouse's oddities earlier in the morning, and her worry for Myka certainly hadn't relieved her of stress. Mentally, she was, indeed, exhausted.

"She was awake for much of the night," Helena informed quietly, peeking behind her to be sure that her partner hadn't stirred. "But it's very unusual for Myka to sleep this long, and she's gotten considerably warmer throughout the evening."

"Well… maybe she should eat something? I dunno," Claudia confessed with a rolling shrug of one shoulder. "I don't really take care of sick people much. Are you sure she's not dead?" She teased, because it was odd for Myka to sleep so long, and Helena imagined that the girl thought it something to mock Myka for when she awoke.

But Claudia had quite clearly underestimated the weight of Helena's concern, and Helena sharply directed a scowl that would have had Hitler thinking twice of his actions.

"Yeah," Claudia rushed nervously, cautiously taking an unknowing step backward. "Not so funny. My bad."

"With the fever, I believe it's safe to assume that she needs the rest," Helena replied pointedly, doing her very best to ignore the shudder that threatened to overcome her at Claudia's playful supposition, and the supposition altogether.

"I guess," Claudia conceded, though it was obvious that she was a bit fretful. "Anyway," she asserted more cheerfully, "I brought dinner. I figured since you guys hadn't reappeared that Myka might still be asleep, and the last time you weren't there when she woke up, things got a _little_ rough. Like, apocalyptically rough. I thought we should avoid round two."

"Thank you," Helena replied genuinely, because the same thought had kept her from straying to the kitchen hours before, when her stomach had protested the lack of nourishment.

"Sure thing," Claudia assured, thrusting the tray into the author's hands. "Tell her I hope she feels better. Y'know, whenever she wakes up."

"I'll be sure to," Helena promised. "Goodnight, Claudia."

"Night!" Claudia bade her farewell with a springy step and a wave.

Helena ate her meal in silence from the armchair near the window. And when she finished, she borrowed a few of Myka's things to change into, and crawled into bed beside her lover.

Myka, in turn, shifted around uncomfortably before loosely hanging her arm around Helena's middle in the process of flopping onto her stomach. Helena couldn't help a small chuckle. For such a reserved person in her waking business hours, Myka exhibited no such restrictions in her slumbering ones.

_Or in her sexual ones_, Helena thought, pleased.

And, not for the first time, Helena found herself marveling at her good fortune. Myka was tremendously endearing; she was kind, and generous, and possessed a heart that Helena would shy to compare to gold, because it was so much more precious than the glimmering metal that so many seemed to favor.

And Myka Bering was _hers_.

Armed with both that knowledge and a full stomach, Helena turned onto her side and stroked a gentle index finger down the length of Myka's cheek. "Goodnight, my love," she murmured softly, dipping her head down to brush a kiss against the corner of her lover's mouth.

Myka drowsily muttered something unintelligible to Helena's ears, but Helena smiled fondly nevertheless and tucked herself beneath the blankets to attempt a few hours of sleep.

* * *

A rattling noise eased Helena from rest.

She frowned at it, and – with large effort – she coaxed her eyes open, promptly experiencing a brief moment of panic when she instantly realized that Myka was not at her side.

"Sorry," she heard from behind her, and she whirled around to face the secret service agent she had fallen to sleep with.

"Myka," she breathed on a sigh of relief. "You frightened me, I'm afraid."

"Sorry," Myka repeated sincerely. "I tried not to wake you."

"It's alright," Helena assured, shifting upward to rest her back against the headboard. "Waking to you is something I am certain I will never tire of, in whatever form it may arrive."

From her new position, Helena could now afford a better assessment of the younger woman, and she was decidedly unimpressed with what she found. Myka looked _tired_, and her cheeks were pink with fever. Helena could spot gooseflesh at her wrist even from the three feet between them, and the silk robe that Myka adorned (which Helena had a new appreciation for, after her first night in Myka's bed) easily allowed her to note that the chilled effect had spread over Myka's chest and shoulders. A bottle of aspirin was gripped in her hand.

"Oh, darling," she cooed sympathetically. "Let me," she insisted, stretching her arm out for the medicine that Myka held.

"I'm okay," Myka assured firmly, but relinquished the bottle nevertheless.

"I must assume that you are lying to me, Myka," Helena said softly, twisting the cap from the bottle and shaking two pills loose before placing them in Myka's palm, along with the glass of water from the nightstand. "Or, at least, you are not being entirely truthful. You seem quite ill."

"I've been worse," Myka said, offering a weak smile before tossing the medication into her mouth and chasing it with the beverage she'd been handed.

"When did you wake?" Helena inquired, tipping her head to the side to evaluate her lover with tenderness and concern so powerful that Helena was sure it would have startled her, in a past life.

"Around three," Myka shrugged, turning to face the window and huddling her robe tighter around her frame. Helena glanced at the clock; it was now five. "I took a bath," Myka offered. "I was hoping it would help."

"I can only draw the conclusion that it did not," Helena murmured gently, rising from the bed to circle her arms around Myka's waist, and, being pressed against her, Helena could feel exactly how warm she was. She was less than thrilled.

Myka shook her head, but sighed and leaned further into the warmth of Helena's embrace. Helena rested her chin atop Myka's shoulder, and hushed an innocent, but openmouthed kiss against her lover's jaw; she was content to hold Myka in quiet for a moment before counseling her back to bed.

"Vibes are Pete's thing," Myka mused abruptly, but Helena could discern that she was rather bemused.

Helena could share the sentiment. Nevertheless, she patiently waited for Myka to elaborate. When she didn't, Helena furrowed her brows downward, and inquired, "Are you experiencing a vibe, love?"

"I don't know," Myka admitted, and helplessly added, "I just have this really strange feeling that I should be at the Warehouse."

Helena frowned. "I don't believe you're in a well enough state to be travelling any further from your bed than this, darling," she paused. "I'm also hesitant for you to allow this feeling to guide you, as our dear Claudia informed me this morning that the Warehouse has been after your company."

"Huh?"

Myka's exhausted and atypically graceless reply charmed a smile to Helena's lips. "Mm," she hummed her confirmation of her previous statement. "Evidently, the Warehouse rather impolitely assailed Claudia with some of your things yesterday. She seems quite confident that the Warehouse is displeased, for some reason or another. She's deduced that it would appreciate your presence, though she's also very convinced that it means you no harm."

"If it means me no harm, then – "

"I have little reason to worry," Helena finished for her, a wry twist of her lips accompanying her statement. "And yet, I can't seem to help myself from doing so."

"You're sweet," Myka said softly, and Helena could see the affectionate smile that widened her mouth.

"I love you, Myka," Helena whispered quietly, her breath stretching warmth over Myka's cheek. "I would simply prefer if you could wait until you've recuperated from whatever illness has taken you before you approach the Warehouse. It would not due to be less than prepared for whatever may occur."

"Okay," Myka agreed, though Helena could easily see that this feeling was very much frustrating her partner. "And I love you, too, you know," she added warmly.

"I know, darling," Helena assured, touching her lips to Myka's cheek. And she did know. She merely couldn't understand _how_. But she wasn't about to question the greatest gift that she had been offered in this life; she was more than happy to accept Myka's feelings, and return them in kind.

"Can we lay down?" Myka asked tiredly, moments later. "I know I slept all day, but…" she shrugged feebly.

"Of course, love," Helena soothed, turning Myka in her arms and pressing a caring kiss to her mouth. "Come. My sleep was disturbed, anyway," she teased with a wink.

Myka chuckled softly, but nodded and followed Helena into bed, where Helena tucked her into her arms before Myka could steal the chance away from her by doing it herself. She grazed a kiss to Myka's temple, and quietly wished her a restful night.

* * *

"Where is Agent Bering?" Helena heard the unmistakably serene voice of Mrs. Frederic resonate from Artie's office to the foot of the stairs, where she stood with a wide-eyed Claudia, both holding inventory clipboards.

Helena set hers to rest at the table and swiftly ascended the stairs, Claudia hot on her heels. "Have you a need for her?" She inquired, and could have cringed at the obvious protective quality that her tone had adopted, if not for the fact that she so sincerely intended to do exactly that – protect Myka.

If the dark woman had expected a different reply (perhaps a proper reply to her query), she gave no indication. She regarded the Victorian with what Helena curiously discerned to be approval, and simply replied, "I've asked for her, have I not?"

Helena frowned. "She's fallen ill, I'm afraid."

Mrs. Frederic's expression turned pensive. "We must bring her to the Warehouse," she decided after several moments.

"But, Mrs. F, the Warehouse – " Claudia tried to protest.

"Intends her no harm. In fact, at this stage, the Warehouse will prove quite beneficial for Agent Bering's health," Mrs. Frederic informed.

Though Helena often wished that she wouldn't inform at all, as every word from the woman's mouth simply provided more questions than answers, and Helena found that infuriating. Particularly when it came to Myka.

"Arthur," Mrs. Frederic inclined her head. "Summon her, please."

Artie seemed confused, but followed the Caretaker's orders and picked up his Farnsworth to request that Myka make her way to the Warehouse as soon as she could.

Helena vaguely heard Myka mention something about having Savannah take her, which pleased her greatly. When she'd awoken Myka around nine that morning, her patient had informed her that she was a bit woozy. Helena had insisted that she take the day to recover, and had promptly picked up her own Farnsworth to inform Artie that Myka would be absent before her lover could think to dispute the decision. It was a Saturday, so the man was only slightly bothered, but Helena caught him grumbling something about the lost work the day before, when they had all overpoweringly elected to take the day off while Savannah acclimated to her surroundings.

But Helena was not content with Mrs. Frederic's request.

"Can this be done another time?" Helena huffed agitatedly. "Myka is not well."

"As I said, Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederic raised a brow as though daring Helena to make a third attempt to circumvent her demands, "the Warehouse will prove beneficial for her health."

And just what did that even mean?


	28. Chapter 28

_Author's Note:_ Hope this gets out alright... The site seems to be having some troubles today. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Helena was alert.

She could feel Claudia's anxious shuffling beside her. She could hear Pete and Steve hurry up the stairs from the gooery, and Pete's ensuing attempt to humorously badger Mrs. Frederic for answers regarding Myka's health – which were, of course, answers that he did not receive. She could see Artie and Steve biting their tongues to remain silent, curiosity and worry painted through the lines in each of their faces.

And she could smell apples.

She could smell it so strongly that she was sure that she tasted it in her mouth.

It had been quite some time since Helena had drawn in that particular scent – and even longer since she'd caught it in the Warehouse. And while she found it intriguing, she had more pressing things to concern herself with.

Primarily, the sound of Myka and Savannah bickering from within the Umbilicus.

"Mykey, you should be in bed," Savannah argued.

"I _was_ in bed," Myka returned weakly. "Then I was called out of bed, and now I'm here. Artie said Mrs. Frederic asked to see me, and – _don't!_" Myka hissed the final word, and it emerged with more strength than any of her other protestations. "Don't touch the bombs, Savannah."

"Bombs?" Savannah sounded alarmed. "Why are there – ? You know what, forget it. I'm serious, Myka," she said firmly. "You're _really_ sick."

"And I'm still _really_ going. Scoot over; I need to punch in the code," Myka instructed.

It was no more than five seconds later that Helena could spot her lover in the entryway, but Myka didn't stir. She leaned feebly against the circular threshold with Savannah holding her elbow to provide support whenever she elected to move.

Helena surged forward to Myka's side. If it were possible, Myka appeared worse than when Helena had left her five hours ago. Her cheeks – once pink – were a flaming and disconcerting red, and the flush had taken down her neck and chest, as well. She was bundled in a university sweatshirt with sleeves that covered her palms, and if Helena weren't so concerned, she might have thought it endearing; as it stood, however, she could think of nothing beyond easing Myka to rest on the loveseat.

"Myka," Helena murmured powerlessly as her lover began to initiate a frail shove from the wall. She could feel Myka trembling against her. Helena reached an arm around her waist to stabilize the woman, and she softly encouraged her forward, until she, with Savannah's assistance, could sink Myka onto the sofa.

"Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic greeted with a nod.

Pete twitched with the desire to move toward Myka, most probably to take a seat beside her, but Helena offered a glance in his direction before seating herself on the far end of the couch and lowering Myka's head into her lap.

"Sorry," Myka mumbled, lolling her head to the side to get a proper view of the Warehouse Caretaker. "I'm not feeling very well."

"I imagine you are not," Mrs. Frederic conceded. She then made a small motion with her finger, and – from seemingly nowhere – her bodyguard materialized behind them and offered Helena a file.

Frowning, Helena stretched her arm backward to accept it.

"I have located the remaining pages of James Braid's manuscript," Mrs. Frederic informed.

"Where were they?" Myka inquired, but shivered soon after.

Claudia swiftly moved to grab for the afghan throw that hung on the arm of the couch opposite to Helena. Savannah helped the redhead to wrap Myka up in it, eliciting an eye roll, but a nevertheless grateful, "Thank you," that wavered over Myka's tongue. The younger women swiftly took places on the floor, leaning against the loveseat.

"The matter is not where they resided, but whose possession they resided in," Mrs. Frederic inclined her head.

"Then who – "

"You've hauled her from rest that is quite evidently required, given her present state, so that you may speak in riddles that she hasn't the energy to properly work through?" Helena demanded. "I intend no disrespect," _Lie_. Furious, smoldering lie. Every disrespect intended, because Helena found this exercise to be nothing more than cruel and absurd. "However, if you've a point to make, then I advise you make it soon."

Apples, again. Sweet and sour and succulent on her tongue.

Myka fingers offered a small grip over her knee, but Helena was not to be comforted until Myka had taken to her bed at the inn. And then, with several panicking eyes in observance, Myka sat up and draped the blanket around her shoulders before lifting the file from Helena's hand.

"Who had the manuscript?" Myka whispered dimly.

"Adwin Kosan," Mrs. Frederic answered simply.

"A _Regent_?" Pete spluttered. "A Regent did this to Myka's cousin? Nuh-uh. No way. There's just no way, right, Mykes?" He whirled to face her, but his gaze met his partner's for no more than a moment before he spun back to face Mrs. Frederic. "Why?" He snapped.

"A group of Regents _are_ responsible," Mrs. Frederic confirmed. "However, it was Mr. Kosan who took it upon himself to rectify this mistake. He has perished for his trouble."

"Perished?" Steve straightened and eyed the Caretaker intensively with folded arms.

"Perished, as in _dead_?" Claudia paled. "He's dead?"

"Yes," Mrs. Frederic nodded.

"What do – " Myka wetted her lips and sighed as she fought to muster the strength for her words. "What do the Regents want with Savannah?" And her hand fell to her cousin's shoulder and tightened protectively.

Savannah looked up and offered an uncertain smile, but Helena did not miss the brief, frightened glance she spared at the file clenched in Myka's left hand.

"Ms. Morgan has a gift," Mrs. Frederic claimed. "You, Agent Bering, are in possession of a scrupulous eye for detail. Your cousin is in possession of the same. However, her talent extends into the psyche of human expression, in contrast to your eye for environment."

Myka wobbled onto her feet, and Helena quickly moved around Claudia and Savannah so that she could hold her arm. But Myka was not content to stand. She moved toward the wall of Artie's office and frowned, but she leaned against it and tapped her fingers along the chilled stone behind her.

"Was it a test?" Myka asked quietly, several moments after casting her eyes upward from her anxious fingers.

Helena could hear rage in her tone.

"In a manner of speaking," Mrs. Frederic verified. "Several of the Regents have kept watch over her during your tenure with the Warehouse."

"Sure. Because they couldn't have just _asked_ me," Savannah grumbled with a scoff. "No, they had to get all Jedi mind trick about it…"

Helena couldn't help the brief emotion of pride that swelled in her chest at the reference that she could now make sense of. It took her but seconds to refocus on Myka, shaking with chattering teeth beside her.

Ignoring the disturbance, as she was often inclined to do, Mrs. Frederic continued, "It appears that the Regents in question were evaluating Ms. Morgan's worth as a potential agent for the Warehouse, and weighing that possibility against the inevitable question of whether her status as an agent would provoke your resignation, Agent Bering."

"Which Regents?" Helena exacted.

"For the time being, Agent Wells," Mrs. Frederick eyed her speculatively, "that information remains irrelevant."

"But, my mom – " Pete tried, but was abruptly overridden.

"Irrelevant?" Artie hissed. "Irrelevant?! Everything we do here rests on the sound judgment of the Regents! It is _not_ irrelevant!"

"The matter will be dealt with," Mrs. Frederic ambiguously replied, arching a challenging eyebrow into her hairline. "The more pressing affair is Agent Bering."

"No," Myka insisted, eyes narrowing to slits. "No," she shook her head. "These pages," she said, lifting the file in her quivering grasp, "need to be neutralized, before anything else."

"Myka," Helena tried, "Mrs. Frederic seems quite confident that the Warehouse is, in some way, correlated with your illness. Perhaps you ought to discuss this – "

"I'm not discussing anything until someone bags these damn sheets of paper," she huffed, though it emerged as more of a wheeze as her anger deteriorated her already fragile body. "She has been _studied_, Helena," she persuaded. "For a year, Savannah has been dipping in and out of… of awareness, so that a group of my bosses can assess her observational abilities, of all things. And right now, my only reassurance that the Regents responsible are receiving retribution is that _'the matter will be dealt with,_'" Myka hissed. "So, I'm sorry, Mrs. Frederic, but this conversation leads to a dead end unless you're giving me permission to neutralize these and give my cousin the peace of mind that she deserves."

Mrs. Frederic took several steps closer before removing a familiar silver bag from the lining of her jacket, wordlessly extending it to Myka's palm.

"Thank you," Myka murmured, and when her eyes met Mrs. Frederic's, Helena could see honest and grateful sincerity laced between the murky green that she had grown to treasure.

Helena tightened her fingers over Myka's arm, and earned a small, loving smile in reward.

"Duck and cover, love," Helena advised, meeting Savannah's gaze.

It occurred to her that this was Savannah's first visit to the Warehouse, and that, while she guarded a very dangerous artifact, she knew very little about the functions of the snag, bag, and tag process.

"Huh?" Savannah scrunched up her nose in confusion.

Rolling her eyes, Helena shifted to gently press on the back of her head, effectively ducking it downward, and she shielded her view with her remaining available hand just before Myka dropped the pages into the silver bag.

"What the hell was that?" Savannah yelped, gripping her head through blinding pain, if her expression was anything to go by.

"Are you alright?" Myka asked her.

Savannah nodded as she rubbed her temple, but said softly, "That hurt like a bitch, Mykey."

"But it's gone now?" Myka pressed worriedly.

"Yeah," Savannah nodded. "What's with all the sparks and whatnot?"

"That's what the artifacts do when they're neutralized," Steve explained.

"So much cooler with the goo, though," Claudia asserted.

"Right?" Pete agreed, punching out his fist to meet Claudia's.

"For sure," Claudia nodded.

Myka leaned back against the wall, deflated and weak, but she sighed when Helena moved so that she could shuffle her fingers through her lover's curly locks, and appreciatively leaned into the affectionate touch. Helena brushed a kiss over her cheek softly, and regarded Mrs. Frederic with her most demanding expression.

Myka was _ill_. Mrs. Frederic had assured her that the Warehouse would help, and with Braid's manuscript securely zipped in neutralizing foil, the Caretaker could now share how the Warehouse could aide Myka.

"You were compelled to stand there," Mrs. Frederic declared, dark eyes locked determinedly to Myka's. "Why?"

Helena evaluated Myka with intensity. She seemed hesitant, and she drew her lip between her teeth before offering a small and vulnerable shrug. "I don't know," she confessed.

"Fortunately for you, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic strode forward and pressed her palm to the block of stone that Myka's fingers trailed against, "I do."

The wall broke down before them like a dismantled puzzle, stone falling to rubble at their feet as dust clouded over their eyes. And behind it, there lay darkness. There was nothing there. It was void of light, as far as Helena could discern – and she attempted to discern for quite some time.

"Come, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic instructed with a small grin as she took a minuscule step forward. "Endless wonder awaits you."


	29. Chapter 29

_Author's Note:_ I know this one is significantly later than usual, but it took some time to get this where I wanted it. Let me know what you think. And, as always, thank you for reviewing - all of you, even the guests! : )

* * *

Helena had been so intent on investigating the newfound hole in Artie's office that she had neglected to observe her lover's reaction to it. It seemed that she was not alone. Pete was peering around Claudia's shoulder and leaning from one side to the other with squinted eyes to try and see the emptiness that expanded before them. Steve was evaluating the darkness with the same skepticism that she imagined the former ATF agent would regard a bomb. Artie's jaw had nearly met with the floor, and he was offering small mumblings about the secrets of his own damn office. Claudia gnawed at her bottom lip and shifted her eyes between Mrs. Frederic and Myka, holding her breath tight in her chest.

Savannah, however, hadn't moved from the floor. It was her who Myka faced, instead of the makeshift entrance that had been created before them. Myka's arms were folded, and the set of her jaw reflected a determination that Helena could admire, but not understand.

After several moments, during which the rest of the team caught on to the silent exchange that was occurring beyond their initial focus, Savannah nodded and stood, dusting off the backs of her jeans. "I'll keep watch here," she said softly, offering Myka a small grin.

"Thanks, bug," Myka smiled in return.

Savannah shoved her way through the team with a small huff and a playful wink at Pete and Claudia, before she reached her arms out to wrap around Myka's middle. Helena briefly relinquished her hold over Myka and took a step away to allow the younger woman the comfort that she somehow knew Myka to be in need of equally as much as her cousin, if not more so.

"Don't touch anything, okay?" Myka instructed, sliding her fingers through straight, dark locks.

Savannah rolled her eyes. "I'm not five, Mykey," she stated pointedly.

"That's never stopped you before," Myka muttered. "I'm serious, though. Don't touch _anything_, and if anything goes wrong at all, you call for me, okay?"

Savannah blinked and placed a hand over her cocked hip. "What exactly do you think is going to go wrong?"

"With this place?" Artie snorted. "You can never really know. "

"I'll be good," Savannah said, punctuating the sentiment with an exasperated eye roll. "And I won't touch anything. Go," she said, tilting her head toward the opening in the wall.

Myka kissed her cheek. "Okay, bug. We'll be back soon," she said, but glanced at Mrs. Frederic, who offered neither denial nor confirmation of the loose time assumption.

Helena scoffed. Talented though the woman may be, and significant as Helena knew she was, Mrs. Frederic grated at her nerves more often than not. Helena had never enjoyed the idea of being ignorant, and had done everything in her power not to be; Mrs. Frederic's entire being seemed focused on leaving others in the dark, and Helena thought it maddening.

With a sigh, Savannah retreated to the loveseat and threw her head over the armrest, hands folded over her stomach.

Helena reached her fingers up to trail over Myka's cheek, and she frowned. "Are you well enough for this, darling?" She inquired, concerned.

Myka shrugged, and cynically replied, "I'm not really getting the feeling that I have a choice."

"There is always a choice, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic informed sagely. "However, in this case, I believe that failing to explore this opportunity will only serve to further weaken you."

"Well," Claudia said with a single clap of her hands. "That settles that, then."

And the redhead promptly shoved at Myka's shoulder blades, effectively driving the secret service agent through the stone entrance.

Helena had enough time to shower the girl with the malice of a lethal glower before pivoting to face Myka, who had stumbled frailly at the sudden jerk – but where there had been darkness before as Mrs. Frederic toed the threshold of the entryway, there were now the glowing, radiant paints of sunset; purples and blues, oranges and reds folding over one another and emerging again as they swirled around her lover in a dance that Helena was certain she could never learn the steps to.

"Um…" Myka inelegantly offered with a small half-rotation of her body as her rigorous eyes devoured every detail of her strange new surroundings.

"It's alright, Agent Bering," Mrs. Frederic assured, taking another step forward into the now lit room.

Helena moved behind her, aware that she had not been invited, but defiantly ignoring that particular detail to reach for Myka's hand and offer a small squeeze of comfort. Myka quickly returned it, but the moment that their fingers connected, the sprightful hues wrapped around her like a warm blanket that left her just a bit too hot, but, after a brief moment of inspection, she could note that Myka – though still feeble in her stance – had ceased to tremble.

"Myka?" She prompted softly.

Myka's eyes rapidly shifted around the shades like Helena would imagine one's opened eyes would appear while dreaming, pupils wide where Helena would have expected them to be but pinpoints with Myka's intense focus.

Her lover's fingers slid up to grip tightly at Helena's wrist, and she quietly whispered, "Can you see them?" without shifting to face her at all.

"The colors?" Helena asked, frowning. But she nodded anyway, and confirmed, "Yes, darling. I can see them."

Myka shook her head and parted her lips to speak, but Mrs. Frederic beat her to it. "She cannot see what you see, Myka," she said gently. "Nor can I, or any other."

"Okay," Myka said slowly, dragging out the 'oh' as she processed information as quickly as her brilliant, clever mind could manage. "Why?"

"This is the room of the Protector," Mrs. Frederic smiled widely.

"The who now?" Pete scrunched his nose up, and Helena was alarmed to hear him so near. She had heard him and the others enter behind her, but the warmth of the colors that swathed her left Helena with a distinct grogginess that left Pete and everyone else outside of Myka in a world that seemed just beyond her grasp. She chanced a look back at the doorway they had come through, but she now saw only the same blackness that she had observed from its opposite end.

Confused, Helena tried to pull her hand away from Myka's hold to dispel of the fogginess that had taken her, but the agent was having none of it. Helena looked up to her bemusedly, but Myka's eyes were suddenly still and locked onto hers, the fear in them unmistakable, and Helena raised her hand to offer a long, soothing kiss to her palm. Awareness be damned; she could do without it. Myka was afraid, and Helena's touch helped to calm her. She had no desire to deprive her partner of that comfort.

"The room of the Protector," Mrs. Frederic stated again.

"Dude, is this why the Warehouse was zapping me?" Claudia demanded. "Was Kosan the Protector, or whatever?"

Artie's brows furrowed and he muttered something under his breath, but Helena couldn't hear him, and did not concern herself with anything but Myka. "Darling, breathe," she counseled, and Myka immediately puffed out a breath of air that had the colors around them livening with glee.

"Mr. Kosan was, indeed, the Protector," Mrs. Frederic confirmed, inclining her head and assessing Myka's stiffened form. "Agent Bering is the Warehouse's chosen replacement."

"What _exactly_ does a Protector do?" Artie growled, facing his boss with a displeasure that nearly matched Helena's own.

"The Caretaker looks after the Warehouse," Mrs. Frederic said simply. "The Protector cares for those associated with it."

"What does that even mean?" Steve asked, an uncharacteristic irritation in his words that Helena found circumstantially appropriate, and she offered a small, dazed smile of appreciation.

"The colors that you see in this room are, to Agent Bering's perception, something else entirely. You may think of them as… files," Mrs. Frederic bowed her head slightly as she finally settled upon the world.

"Files on what?" Pete asked, lowering his hands to his hips and regarding Mrs. Frederic with a rather intimidating suspicion.

"On you, Agent Lattimer," Mrs. Frederic lifted her brow authoritatively. "And on me – on every agent who has worked for the Warehouse in the present and past, on every potential agent for its future, on every person known to have made contact with an artifact dating back to Warehouse 1."

"Why is that making her sick?" Claudia exacted commandingly.

"That is a great amount of information working itself into the confines of Agent Bering's mind, Claudia," Mrs. Frederic shared. "As vast as her mind is, it takes a toll. I've been told that the integration can be rather debilitating."

"Okay," Steve halted, shifting one of his folded arms enough to hold up a ceasing palm, "so what exactly is in these 'files?'"

"They aren't files," Myka shook her head, tugging Helena by the wrist as she staggered a couple steps forward. "It's like… video, with feeling."

"_Feeling_?" Pete asked. "Mykes, you're not allowed to feel my feelings. I have… _man_ feelings," he said, shuffling and rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

"Dude, really?" Claudia arched a brow in his direction.

"You honestly believe that to be anywhere in her focus?" Helena hissed. "Centuries of Warehouse agents and artifact disturbances imprinting upon her mind, and you expect her to be concerned with your male _urges_?"

Myka tightened her fingers lightly, but frowned. "What if I don't want to be the Protector?" She inquired softly.

"The Warehouse has chosen you for – "

"Yeah, but what if I don't want it?" Myka interrupted, her query firm and her eyes demanding.

"Mykes, come on," Pete laughed a bit incredulously. "Why wouldn't you want that?"

"It's a serious tactical advantage," Steve admitted reluctantly, but he didn't seem thrilled with the idea.

"I don't just see it, Pete," Myka said quietly, shaking her head. "It's… I'm supposed to protect them. All of them, and I can't – "

Myka broke off with a choke, and Helena circled her hands around Myka's waist and pulled, hard, until her lover was fixed against her with her arms looping under Helena's and grasping onto her shoulders, leaning weakly on Helena's frame.

"Darling," she hushed, "be brave, for me, hm? Be brave," she encouraged softly. "Just a tiny bit longer, my love, and we'll take you to bed. You'll rest, and lay safe in my arms. I won't let anything happen to you, Myka. I won't have it. Be brave, just a little longer."

And, God help her, she'd never smelt so many apples in her life.

Myka nodded against her shoulder.

Artie cleared his throat awkwardly. "She's not a Regent, though… correct?" And the final word rumbled dangerously over his tongue, as though anything but a confirmation to his assumption would be intolerable.

"That is a matter up for discussion," Mrs. Frederic ceded. "The Protectors have, in the past, been reserved a seat at the head of the Regents' table."

"What?" Myka demanded.

"There is no defined hierarchy within the Regents' folds," Mrs. Frederic stated professionally, but pointedly added, "officially. Unofficially, however, it is understood that the Protector… makes the decisions, as I believe Mr. Kosan was inclined to say."

Helena kept her fingers at Myka's hip and took Myka's hand between the unsteady grasp of her free one. But Myka's gaze was not on them; it was secured to a suddenly still, golden hue approximately the size of Helena's palm, but the stricken look in her eyes was more than Helena needed.

"That's enough," she determined resolutely. "Myka has had quite enough for the afternoon. She needs rest, and time to process the information that she has been given. That," Helena said firmly, sparing but a threatening glance in the dark woman's direction, "is _enough_."

"Agent Wells is correct," Mrs. Frederic nodded. "I shall return in the morning, Arthur. Have a meal delivered to Agent Bering's room as quickly as possible; she requires the strength."

"What, like soup?" Claudia turned to ask, but rolled her eyes. "Of course she's freakin' gone. _Of course_," she huffed dryly.

"Mykes, are you okay?" Pete asked, stretching his arm out to cover her shoulder with his palm. He quickly retracted the hand, though, and, with wide eyes, he breathed, "Woah. Mykes…"

"She needs rest," Helena insisted, drawing a halt to whatever sentiment Pete had been prepared to express. "Come, darling. We'll take you home now, alright?"

"Thank you," Myka sighed. Helena had only once heard her sound so helpless, and it had been but a week before, when Myka had confessed to missing Helena, and loving her, and being devastated by her abandonment.

It had taken Helena and Pete's strength to all but carry an exhausted Myka to the car, Savannah and Claudia trailing fretfully behind as Claudia tried to debrief Myka's cousin on all that had occurred behind the mysterious wall.

Helena noted from the conversation behind her that Savannah was thoroughly confused, as no time had passed in their absence, but despite her intrigue, she would consider that at another time. Myka was her only concern.

But as she sidled into the car beside her lover, and Savannah on Myka's opposite side, Myka regarded her with tears in her eyes and a pain that Helena could only compare to her own, after the loss of her dear Christina.

"Myka?" She asked gently, cupping her cheek with the utmost care.

She was surprised when Myka's fingers reached up to desperately catch her hand in a tight, needy grip, and her eyes maneuvered over Helena's face like a map that she couldn't even pin herself on – like Helena's face held the answer to a frightening world that she knew nothing of.

"Darling, what is it?" Helena insisted, leaning forward to tilt her forehead to her partner's, worry and fear etched into chocolate orbs and the lines around her mouth.

Myka parted her lips, but promptly closed them and shook her head. "Later," she said simply, but it was hoarse and tired, and Myka never took her eyes from Helena's the whole seven miles back to the inn.

Myka had been pushed enough, Helena decided. She would keep her promise. Myka would lie tonight in Helena's arms, safe and secure, where Helena could protect her from the harms of the outside world and the overwhelming power of her lover's strengthened mind. Because everything that Helena treasured in this world was epitomized in Myka Bering, and Satan would haul her to the frozen tundra of Hell – through earth, and wind, and fire, and water, combatting every bit of treacherous resolution that she had ever possessed before Helena would allow harm to befall this woman she so dearly loved.

Tonight, Myka would be protected by the unmatched vigilance and care of Helena Wells. And, for tonight, that was more than enough for Helena.


	30. Chapter 30

Helena and Pete jointly managed to lift Myka from the car, but her strength flagged ever more with every added leg of their small journey, and it took a great deal of time to coax her up the stairs. Helena had tried to muster a smile for Claudia and Savannah while they made for the kitchen to prepare the meal that Mrs. Frederic had advised, but she was nearly certain that she had managed but a grimace for the two young women as her concern continued to climb.

Myka hardly had the energy to speak, let alone move, and though she'd made a decent and relatively convincing effort to mask the fear and heartbreak in her eyes, Helena was not fooled. But she had vowed that she would abide by Myka's wishes to discuss the cause at an undefined 'later' point in time, and she intended to adhere to it, despite her own worries.

When they had finally gotten Myka onto the bed, Helena sat beside her against the headboard and just held Myka's icy body to hers, soothing her hands over Myka's shoulders in a seemingly futile attempt to generate some heat. While Myka's chill had ceased under the care of dancing lights and warm colors, Helena had, with great displeasure, noticed that the shivers had returned on the drive back to the inn.

Sighing worriedly, Helena tucked her cheek to the side of Myka's head, feeling that she should be doing something _more_ for Myka – anything more – but she knew of nothing. As little help as it provided, Helena feared that this simple act of cradling Myka against her would have to suffice, as it was all that she could presently offer, as much as it pained her.

"Okay," Pete said, fumbling over the blanket that he'd been fretfully tucking around Myka for the better part of the last five minutes, "we're gonna get you some food, Mykes! And enough books to last you until you're all healed up. I'll try to pick out some good ones," he scrunched up his face, "but I kinda suck at library things, so I'll probably have to ask HG to help. 'Cause she knows about stuff like that."

Pete was rambling, and Helena could discern that he was concerned, but she remained quiet. She had little comfort to extend to him, as she was in a similar state – and, though she couldn't be sure, she also sensed that this was a conversation for the two partners to share without interruption from her.

"Pete," Myka murmured softly.

"Oh!" The man exclaimed, abruptly snapping his fingers. "And some Twizzlers. I'll snag some of those, too. Don't worry, Mykes – I got you covered!"

"Pete," Myka said again, gently, but with more force, and Helena couldn't resist her desire to place a long, tender kiss to her lover's temple for the kindness that layered in her voice, despite the clear effort that it had taken her to make the small assertion.

"No," Pete shook his head. "We're not doing this, Myka," he said seriously. "You're gonna be fine."

"That's my line," Myka sighed.

Pete grinned. "Yeah, well, you can barely hit a whisper right now, so I had to say it just in case I couldn't hear you. Seriously, you gotta speak up, Mykes."

"I'm going to be fine, Pete," Myka exhaled anyway, offering a small smile that hardly covered any of her mouth. But the sentiment behind it was evident and sincere, and for a moment, Helena thought Pete looked like a boy – but not the playful, overeager one who (often inappropriately) fountained off dirty jokes; this boy was vulnerable and frightened, and had seen his fair share of loss and desperation. But, with a swift recovery that Helena momentarily allowed herself to admire, Pete reached down and squeezed Myka's hand.

"Well, you gotta be. 'Cause you and me go out together, right? We made a deal. Shook on it, and everything. No funny business, Mykes," he said, pointing at her with a feigned expression of grave seriousness.

Myka chuckled, but shuddered and burrowed deeper into the blankets with a small, pained noise that tore at Helena's heart.

"I'll be back in a few minutes," Pete promised. "You just hang tight and let HG take good, lovin' care of you while I'm gone. If you ask me," he grinned at Helena, and she lifted a brow curiously, "I think she's a little smitten with ya, Mykes. I mean, she out-Fredericed Mrs. Frederic back there. That's gotta get her some serious brownie points, right?"

Myka rolled her eyes, but smiled and expended what could only have been some of her last reserves of energy to roll onto her side and drape her arm over Helena's waist. "So many brownie points," she mumbled.

"Alright then," Pete nodded decisively and shared a nervous glance with Helena. "Just rest up. I'll be back soon," he said, and he left the room in search of the food that he'd clearly determined was the key to healing Myka's illness.

"Rest, darling," Helena hushed in her ear once the door had eased to a close.

"Helena," Myka whispered, hugging her side tightly as she sank down the bed so that her head rested at Helena's hip, and she could tuck the blanket beneath her chin.

Helena followed her into the warmth of the covers so that she could resume their close contact. She felt a bit guilty, because although she knew that her touch soothed Myka to a certain degree, she was sure that she was maintaining their full-bodied snuggling for her own comfort as much as Myka's – but Helena thought it was acceptable, since it helped Myka to feel better. And she was certain that Myka wouldn't mind if she needed a bit of consolation, as well.

"Myka," Helena touched their foreheads together, and murmured earnestly, "it's alright. We needn't discuss anything now. You've been given quite a bit to consider this afternoon. I only wish for you to get well, my love."

Myka nodded, but she scarcely managed to breathe, "I saw – " But she broke off and heaved in a shattering breath, before somehow gathering the strength to rasp, "The astrolabe. You were gone," she meekly whimpered with wet eyes. "I – " Nothing followed, and with the shudder of Myka's shoulders and the slackening of her frame against Helena's, she could discern that Myka simply didn't have to energy to speak anything else.

"Oh, darling," Helena crooned, and gathered her lover tight in her arms. She had been briefed on the experience with the astrolabe, but she had no personal recollection of it. She would do it again, if it meant Myka's life – she would do it in a heartbeat – but she had never mentioned the astrolabe to Myka in much detail; she wasn't sure how much Myka had known of it, and she certainly had no intention of sharing her sacrifice with Myka, because she knew that it would break her heart.

And, evidently, it had.

"Myka, listen to me," Helena said lovingly, bending a single, beautiful curl off of Myka's cheek and putting it to rest behind her ear, "what I did – what I've been told that I did," Helena corrected, "was an action of love. For you, Myka. From what we've learnt today, I know that you must have felt something, though from whom I'm not certain, but – "

"Me," Myka croaked. "It was my file."

Helena wondered briefly why Myka would have chosen to investigate her own history, amidst the opportunity to look into so many others – but she recalled that Myka had been justifiably overwhelmed by the pressure of being delegated to protect all of those people, and it only made sense that she would seek refuge from their pasts by looking into the only one that she had already managed to cope with. Apparently, however, these 'files' were not simply memories, but an actual account of every emotion and feeling that a person had experienced – and Myka had unearthed an experience that she had previously remembered nothing of.

"Myka," Helena sighed painfully, circling smooth, drawn out circles to the agent's back, "I can't imagine how you must have felt…"

And the wounded sound that followed had Helena all but crunching Myka in her hold, and she instantly felt remorse for her insensitivity; _she_ couldn't imagine how Myka would have felt, but Myka didn't need to imagine it. For all intents and purposes, her lover had lived the experience.

"Never have I seen such kindness and generosity as I have witnessed in you, Myka," Helena divulged lovingly, though the tight grip of her fingers to Myka's hip reflected how difficult this was for her to validate while Myka was so immensely suffering from something that she had done. "To deprive the world of you when I could think of a way to prevent it – " Helena shook her head with tearful eyes. "I could never have done such a thing. I would have been happy to offer you life, Myka – even if it was at the expense of my own. I have lived, darling. I have lived far longer than anyone should, and I have seen progress as no man has before. It did not arrive in the way that I had hoped," she admitted softly, "but I have travelled through time, Myka, and I have accomplished more than most in my time on this earth. I would not only have been happy to give up the time that I have stolen to be here, I would have been honored, and so very proud to have made that exchange."

Myka was quiet for a long time, and when quivering tears escaped from the corners of Myka's eyes, Helena swallowed thickly and brushed them away with caring thumbs.

"Apples," Myka scraped, scanning her face with wide, hurt eyes. "You smelt apples."

And Helena smiled. "I smelt a great number of them today," she shared quietly.

Myka wanted to discuss this further, and if that was what she desired, then Helena would indulge her – but not now. Myka was not fortified enough for this, and though Helena understood that she had needed to vocalize what she had borne witness to, she would not perpetuate Myka's illness any more than necessary.

So she had changed the course of the discussion, instead. She told Myka of Caturanga, and of his proclamation that the scent of apples conveyed the Warehouse's affection. She artfully recited tales of her time with her mentor, pleased when Myka slowly began to relax further into her and eventually succumbed to much needed sleep.

Twenty minutes later, Savannah tentatively knocked at the door before gliding through it with a tray of what looked to be soup and a sandwich, with Pete and Claudia quietly towing behind her.

"Should we wake her up?" Claudia fidgeted. "I know she has to eat and stuff," she said, gesturing with her hands, "but she needs sleep, too, right? I mean, she had a really big day and with all of the stuff going on in her head…" She trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"I'll wake her in a moment," Helena decided softly. "I'd like to give her a bit longer to rest."

Savannah sat down at the edge of the bed, and, with a tender motion that seemed inherently against her loud personality, she stroked Myka's hair from her face.

"Dude, she's gonna be okay," Claudia said, reaching out to touch Savannah's shoulder.

"I know," Savannah replied. "Mykey always is."

It was said with the confidence of a child, with the utmost faith in their parents' abilities, and Helena could see here, more than in any of Savannah's previous actions or words, that she sincerely viewed Myka as her parent. It shouldn't have affected her so; she had known that Myka had mothered her and taken in her in – that she had taught Savannah what a home was truly meant to be – but Myka's warm influence never failed to stun her, and Savannah embodied all of that.

"I brought some Twizzlers," Pete said, setting them on the nightstand. "I'm gonna stop by the Warehouse later to get the books," he rubbed the back of his neck. "Or maybe I'll ask Steve to get them," he considered.

Helena nodded. "Be sure to get something of Byron's," she advised. "It soothes her."

Savannah snorted. "Grab some of HG's stuff, too. Maybe you'll give her a private reading," she winked at Helena.

Helena chuckled softly, relieved for the slight diffusion of tension, in spite of her concern. The position of Protector was not a new one, and quite clearly, others had made it through this straining integration. But Mrs. Frederic had shared very little about how the process worked, or even if every chosen Protector had survived it – and seeing Myka in such a fragile state left them with many questions and great concern.

Helena intended to receive answers for the former upon Mrs. Frederic's arrival the following day – and she sincerely hoped that the concern would be alleviated upon attaining those answers.

* * *

_Author's Note:_ A couple of you guessed that Myka saw Helena after Christina's death. I tampered with that idea to begin with, but I think Myka would avoid looking for that memory, because she knows it's so private. And I especially think that she would avoid immersing herself in that part of Helena's past while surrounded by the entire Warehouse team. Anyway, let me know how I did, guys. Thanks, as always!


	31. Chapter 31

_Author's Note:_ I won't forget about this story, guys, but those daily updates were kind of wearing me out. That's a lot of typing, and a lot of cramped thinking about this plot. :P I think I got a little gung-ho about it. Oops. Anyway, here's the next installment. Let me know what you think!

* * *

Helena had woken Myka for dinner no more than half an hour after Pete, Claudia, and Savannah had departed. Myka had managed to down most of the soup that they'd brought with them – though Helena was mostly convinced that she only did so because it was warm, and Myka's teeth were chattering with her chill. The sandwich had gone untouched, so Helena had eaten it, instead, assuring Myka that she'd done well to keep the soup down with her fever and tenderly pressing a kiss to her temple as her lover buried herself beneath the sheets again.

She told Myka, during the short time that she'd been awake, that she'd be in and out of the room – but mostly she intended to forewarn Myka that she might not be present when she woke. Helena hadn't explicitly said so, of course; while she saw no fault with Myka's moments of panic the week before, she knew that Myka felt rather ashamed of her own reaction. But Myka had smiled her appreciation for Helena's thoughtfulness, and had pressed a grateful, despite weak, kiss to the corner of Helena's mouth, and Helena shortly after soothed her lover into Morpheus' often-precarious hold.

With a sigh, Helena lifted herself from the nest of pillows and blankets that she and Myka had jointly created, and pushed herself to the door. She had no right to be, considering the position that Myka had found herself in over the course of the day, but she was overwhelmed, and she needed a moment. She needed just the smallest bit of distance from her ill lover, so that she could mull over the idea of Protector, and what, exactly, the position entailed.

But once the door creaked open, she curiously found a brunette head, bowed over what appeared to be a sketchbook, with a furiously working pencil. Slender arms shielded the book from view, so Helena could not discern an image, but she found herself fascinated by the swift, gentle motions of Savannah's slim fingers as she drew the instrument across the page.

Savannah appeared not to notice Helena's presence, however, so Helena cleared her throat softly. When that failed to capture the younger woman's interest, Helena rolled her eyes and tapped two fingers against her shoulder.

Her lover's cousin yelped, and her palm rose to cover her heart as the pencil fell to the carpeted floor, temporarily abandoned. "You shouldn't sneak up like that, sweetheart," Savannah frowned. "There's a thing called a heart attack, and one day soon you might provoke one."

"I'd hardly call it _sneaking_," Helena chided. "You really ought to pay higher regard to your surroundings, love. I'm sure that your focus has served you well artistically and, I'll presume, academically – however it's quite hazardous to remain so unguarded."

"You sound like Myka," Savannah rolled her eyes, and tucked her hair behind her ear before closing her fingers around her pencil and tapping it against the sketchbook that rested against her thighs.

She looked small, Helena though. Which was quite strange to her, as all that she'd seen of the girl – outside of Myka's chidings and worries – was loud, and big, and oddly comforting in her youth, particularly given what Helena knew of her history.

"Yes, well, Myka is often correct," Helena acknowledged.

It took a moment of hesitation – because, after all, she had only met the girl recently – but Helena shifted around her to lean against the wall and slid her back down against it until she sat beside the dark-haired woman.

"It's the worst, isn't it?" Savannah snorted, and flashed a spirited grin that Helena was sure had suitors of both sexes cowering at their knees.

But Helena lifted a brow and allowed an amused smile to tug at the edges of her mouth. "Sometimes," she admitted. "But I find it's frequently only my pride that finds it wounding. The rest of me is merely impressed."

Savannah hummed her agreement, but she lowered her head to rest on the arms draped over her knees and evaluated Helena with sharp honeyed eyes that knew more than she was often inclined to let on.

"That's rather discomforting, you know," Helena said pointedly, meeting the artist's abruptly challenging gaze evenly, and with a spark of equal defiance. "It's not difficult to discern when you wish to speak; out with it, then," she encouraged.

Savannah laughed. "Oh, I can definitely see how Mykey fell for you," she smiled wickedly. "All brilliance and bravery and charm," she shook her head, though Helena could see, in the softening corners of her mouth, that it was said with fondness.

"All fine traits, no?" Helena chuckled.

"For sure," Savannah nodded. And then she straightforwardly added, "You're good for her, you know."

Helena swallowed thickly. She wanted to be good for Myka; she had been trying to give her lover everything that she desired, and more – everything that a woman with a heart like Myka Bering _deserved_ – but it was difficult for her to believe, even now, that she was 'good' for her. After all the harm that she had done to Myka, Helena wasn't certain that she was doing anything more than simply repairing the damage that she herself had done.

Savannah waved her hand flippantly when Helena didn't answer. "I don't know everything about what happened with you," she said, shrugging, "but I don't really need to. I mean, it was obviously big, and I get the impression that parts of it were devastating and heartbreaking… but Mykey's happy. Which is really something you should be a lot prouder of, because with everything that's going on, she'd normally be freaking out and doing that _incredibly_ annoying thing where she locks up all her feelings and pretty much buries the key halfway across the world in a tomb somewhere."

Helena frowned. "In my experience, Myka has never truly been very practiced at masking her emotions."

Savannah snorted again, and shot her an exasperated look. "Maybe not from you," she said pointedly, "which is kind of my point. She never shares like that," she said, gesturing toward the bedroom door. "Yeah," Savannah admitted shamelessly. "Sorry," she said, but Helena could easily tell that she wasn't apologetic in the least, "I eavesdropped on your conversation earlier about the bomb and stuff. Which was brave, by the way – but really stupid."

Helena scoffed and rolled her eyes. "You Bering women truly are something else," she murmured absently.

"And damn proud of it, honey," Savannah winked. But she softened considerably a moment later, and said quietly, "But Myka's… different. Better. Better than anyone I know, really."

"You and I share that sentiment," Helena smiled softly.

Savannah's eyes scrutinized her again, and Helena bumped her shoulder lightly, before playfully offering, "If you're going to continue to read into the depth of people's souls, you ought to become more subtle about it."

"I've never been big on subtle," Savannah shrugged carelessly.

"If you've a question, darling," Helena sighed tiredly, and leaned her head back against the wall, "you need only ask."

"I don't have a question," Savannah grinned. "Just a statement."

Helena's brow lifted and she lilted her head to face her lover's cousin, and she allowed her expression to speak for her. _"Go on,"_ it read.

"She wasn't like this with Sam. You're better with her than he was," Savannah said bluntly.

Helena's heart thumped hard in her chest. She and Myka rarely discussed her deceased boyfriend, but she knew that his death had marked a very painful and aggrieved span of Myka's life. It hurt Helena to be reminded that Myka – innocent and sweet as she somehow remained – had suffered such loss.

"You did not care for him," Helena stated instead, curious of the lightly disparaging tone that had accompanied the woman's words.

"He was a decent guy," Savannah admitted reluctantly, and licked her lip before drawing it between her teeth. And, inevitably, Helena thought of Myka. She really had to stop associating that gesture solely with her lover, because it felt strange that – even indirectly – Myka's cousin had her thoughts shifting to such sensual filth. "But he didn't get her," Savannah continued, drawing Helena from her (probably sleep-deprived) daydream.

"Oh?" She questioned nonchalantly.

Savannah laughed uproariously, and Helena fought the desire to shush her, as Myka was resting just beyond the door that they hovered next to. "You can't even pretend like you're not just _teeming_ with pride right now, can you, Wells?"

"I will not feel guilty for being pleased that Myka prefers my company," Helena dismissed.

"How very blasé of you," Savannah smiled knowingly, and Helena felt irritated, but didn't call her on it. That would only lead to her being called out, as well, and Helena was simply too exhausted to handle any emotion that didn't directly deal with her love and concern for Myka. Jealousy for the dead ex-lover was silly, and, given their present circumstance, it offered Helena nothing beneficial.

"Sam was nice," Savannah generously granted reprieve. "And he was good to her. But he couldn't really understand anything about her unless he was expressly told about it. Which was really frustrating for her, I think. Myka doesn't really let people in much, so she's never been very good about talking through things. She says a lot without actually saying anything, and Sam could never really pick up on when she was saying one thing and meaning another."

"I find that men in general are quite proficient at being emotionally ignorant," Helena rolled her eyes.

"Oh yeah," Savannah agreed swiftly. "But Mykey's especially emotional. She cares a lot – about _everything_," and the woman rolled her eyes there, as though it physically pained her to think of caring that much. But Helena suspected that she was similar to her cousin in that regard, and simply couldn't acknowledge within herself that depth of emotion for all things living that she and Myka unknowingly shared. She said nothing, however, and waited for her to continue. "He did love her, for all of his faults," Savannah confessed. "He did nice things for her, but his romantic gestures were more rehearsed than anything. You know, like he cared about her and knew that you do certain things for the people that you love – but he didn't really put much thought into why it was important."

Helena frowned, but nodded. She could understand that. Myka deserved the world, and this man had, according to Savannah's word, attempted to give her that – but, evidently, the emotion behind it had been left a bit wanting. And though Helena was uncertain of her efforts, at times, her emotion for Myka was endless, and following that initial confession, she had not been shy about conveying those feelings to Myka.

Savannah shrugged. "You're different, though," she extended speculatively. "You get her."

Helena struggled not to shift uncomfortably. She was not yet familiar enough with this woman to express more vulnerability than the woman could perceive with her astute observations, but in spite of all of her insecurities about her position in Myka's life, that much she knew. Myka knew her better than anyone else ever had – knew her better than anyone else had ever _tried_ to know, even. And Helena knew her. She knew Myka Bering as though the agent possessed Helena's entire soul – and, some days, Helena wasn't so sure that she didn't.

Savannah proffered a reassuring smile, and said carefully, "And she loves you. More than she's ever loved anyone – including Sam. I knew your name before I came here, you know," she informed offhandedly. "Myka talked about you a lot. And sometimes she wasn't proud of feeling things for you."

Helena winced.

"Mykey's done a lot for me," Savannah shifted subjects suddenly, but Helena suspected that the two items in question were related, so she patiently waited for the connecting thread. "She pretty much raised me. She's the one I'll bring the serious partners home to meet," she chuckled affectionately. "And I love her. So if you hurt her any more than you already have, I'll hunt you down and probably kill you myself, if you don't off me first," she said playfully, but there was a shimmer of lethal gravity that Helena caught in her eye, and she knew that the threat was an honest one.

Of course, she could take this slight woman down in her sleep – but the sentiment was clear.

"I have no intention of doing so again," Helena vowed solemnly.

"I know," Savannah nodded. "But I'd be a very poor pseudo-daughter if I didn't give you 'The Talk,'" she smiled broadly. "Plus, I like you. Putting that fact that you're H.G. Wells aside," and she rolled her eyes again, "you're intelligent and beautiful and you have _the_ most perfect hair I've ever seen in my life."

Slightly incredulous at the airy comment, Helena laughed.

"Seriously, do you even use conditioner?" Savannah huffed profoundly. "Or is it some kind of magic potion?"

Helena's brow climbed upward with her amusement.

Shaking her head, Savannah scowled at herself. "I'm digressing," she sighed. "I get distracted by stupid things when I get nervous."

"Surely I don't make you nervous?" Helena inquired, because, if anything, this woman made _Helena_ tremble in her boots. It was truly unnerving to hear the many things that the young woman discerned and said nothing of; but, Helena thought, that was probably reason enough not to share her thoughts on a regular basis. Whether Myka had presented her with a loving home or not, a child abandoned by her parents probably had more than the occasional fear of rejection – and noticing such intimate things in strangers probably didn't make for quick or easy acceptance.

Savannah laughed. "I have no doubt in my mind that you can be very intimidating, Wells," she said. "But I'm mostly nervous about Myka," she confessed softly.

"Then let's see if we can't do something about that, hm?" Helena asked, standing and brushing off the backs of her jeans before extending her hand to the artist on the floor.

Savannah's eyes sparkled with a mischief that Helena felt probably matched her own, and then she sighed somewhat dreamily, "Man, I love a woman with a plan. Mykey's lucky she got to you before I did."

Helena tossed her head back with her first free laugh of the day. "Come," she beckoned, waggling her fingers until Savannah accepted the gesture and allowed Helena to pull her upward. "Let's find our lovely Miss Donovan and see if this plan of mine has any merit, shall we?"

"And, dear God, she _is_ lovely, isn't she?" Savannah winked conspiratorially, and Helena noted that her moments of sharing were, for the moment, in the past. Here was the woman she had imbibed tequila with – the feisty, teasing woman she had been introduced to. And, although she had enjoyed the insights into Myka's history, she was a bit relieved to be released from the intuitive side of Savannah's personality. She was in no state to be emotionally assessed, at present.

No, she needed to discover what was happening with her lover before any more of that occurred, because she was simply overflowing with concern and worry that needn't be brought any further to the surface than they already were. That, she was certain, would lead to chaos.

And chaos had not served Helena Wells nicely in the past.


End file.
